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The  Surgeons  Stories. 


By  Z.  TOPELIUS. 


THE 

Surgeon’s  Stories. 


BY 


Z.  TOPELIUS, 


Professor  of  Histgey,  University  of  Abo,  Finland. 


A SERIES  OF 

Swedish  Historical  Romances, 

in  six  CYCLES. 

(Each  Cycle  in  one  Volume.  Price  $0.75.) 

First  Cycle — Times  of  Gustaf  Adolf. 
Second  Cycle — Times  of  Battle  and  Best. 
Third  Cycle — Times  of  Charles  XII. 
Fourth  Cycle — Times  of  Frederick  I. 
Fifth  Cycle— Times  of  Linnaeus,  v 
Sixth  Cycle — Times  of  Alchemy. 


Map  prepared  to  accompany  “ The  Surgeon's  Stories.' 


The  Surgeon’s  Stories 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


By  Z.  TOPELIUS 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  AND  COMPANY 
1891 


COPYRIGHT, 

BY  JANSEN,  McCLURG,  & CO., 
A.  D.,  1883. 


Tka 


The  Surgeon's  Stories. 


THIRD  CYCLE: 

TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Part  I.  — The  Blue. 

Part  II. — The  Fugitive. 

Part  III. — The  Shadow  of  a Name. 


CONTENTS 


PART  I.— THE  BLUE. 


Interlude 

. 

9 

Chapter  I. 

The  Lion  Sleeps  . 

14 

Chapter  II. 

The  Lion  Wakes 

. 29 

Chapter  III. 

How  the  Lion  Begins  to  Hunt 

44 

Chapter  IV. 

Aurora  Konigsmark 

. 56 

Chapter  V. 

Rex  Regi  Rebellis  . 

75 

Chapter  VI. 

Letter  from  Ebba  Bertelskold 

. 85 

Chapter  VII. 

The  Chase  at  Liebeverda 

9i 

Chapter  VIII. 

The  Evening  before  Pultowa 

. 103 

Chapter  IX. 

Pultowa’s  Setting  Sun 

108 

PART  II.— THE  FUGITIVE. 


Interlude 

115 

Chapter  I. 

The  Students  Take  the  Field 

. 120 

Chapter  II. 

The  Klingspor  of  the  Great  War  . 

133 

Chapter  III. 

The  Plague — 1710 

. 146 

Chapter  IV. 

Headquarters  at  Borga 

153 

Chapter  V. 

The  Partisans  on  the  Border 

. 167 

Chapter  VI. 

The  Eagle  Hunt  .... 

176 

Chapter  VII. 

Majniemi  Castle  .... 

. 1S5 

Chapter  VIII. 

The  Battle  of  Storkyro 

201 

(7) 

8 


CONTENTS. 


PART  III.— THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


Interlude 

212 

Chapter 

I. 

The  Riksdag  Chib  .... 

220 

Chapter 

II. 

The  Diplomats’  Declaration  of  War  . 

227 

Chapter 

III. 

The  Fugitives  .... 

234 

Chapter 

IV. 

The  Carolin 

241 

Chapter 

V. 

Hats  Off 

246 

Chapter 

VI. 

The  Messenger  from  Finland 

251 

Chapter 

VII. 

The  Book  of  Victories 

258 

Chapter 

VIII. 

The  Uninscribed  Leaf 

262 

Chapter 

IX. 

When  the  Lion  Returned  from  the 

Chase  ..... 

269 

Chapter 

X. 

The  Meeting  at  Stralsund  . 

275 

Chapter 

XI. 

An  Audience  with  Charles  XII 

280 

Chapter 

XII. 

A Visit  to  Finland  in  1715 

288 

Chapter 

XIII. 

The  Hollanders  in  Osterbotten — 1715 

294 

Chapter 

XIV. 

Kajana  Castle  ..... 

300 

Chapter 

XV. 

In  the  Land  of  the  Amazons 

306 

Chapter 

XVI. 

How  Finland’s  Last  Fortress  Fell 

3ii 

Chapter 

XVII. 

The  Mole -Track  at  the  Foot  of  a 

Colossus  . . . 

319 

Chapter 

XVIII. 

A Review  and  a Meeting 

325 

Chapter 

XIX. 

The  King’s  Ring  .... 

332 

Chapter 

XX. 

The  Shadow  of  a Name 

34i 

TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


PART  I.— THE  BLUE. 


INTERLUDE. 


WHOLE  summer  had  passed  since  the  Surgeon 


finished  his  former  story.  During  the  time,  he 
had  been  seldom  seen  in  town,  and  when  he  showed 
himself,  in  his  gray  fishing-jacket  and  heavy  coarse- 
seamed  boots,  he  bore  over  his  shoulder  a knotty  staff, 
on  which  hung  as  a trophy  a respectable  twenty  pound 
pike  destined  for  the  old  grandmother’s  table.  As  a 
matter  of  course,  Back  was  invited  to  dinner;  and  on 
his  account  there  was  served  that  day  a dessert  con- 
sisting of  the  most  beautiful  strawberries  and  rich  new 


milk. 


“Cousin  puts  on  too  little  sugar,”  grandmother  used 
to  say,  with  a kind  look,  although  Back  let  whole  drifts 
snow  over  the  strawberries.  He  was  certainly  no  epi- 
cure ; he  could  live  for  weeks  together  in  his  fisher- 
man’s hut  on  sour  milk  and  boiled  catfish;  but  he  had  a 
weakness  for  sweet  things,  the  honest  old  man,  when 
they  were  offered.  Grandmother  knew  this,  and  though 
she  did  not  stir  the  sugar-sprinkler  for  herself,  she  said 
again,  in  a friendly  way  : 

“A  little  more  sugar,  Cousin  Back.” 

Then  the  Surgeon  heard  what  was  new  in  the  papers, 
and  expressed  himself  in  language  not  exactly  polite 
concerning  Don  Miguel,  whose  devastations  were  car- 


(9) 


10 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


ried  on  at  that  time.  In  exchange  for  the  news,  he  gen- 
erally told  some  amusing  story  of  the  forest  or  the  sea; 
as,  for  example,  how  brother  Svanholm  lately  went 
hunting.  His  comrades  (including  Back)  had  before- 
hand shot  a hare,  drawn  it,  and,  having  put  in  roasted 
meat,  small  herrings,  and  boiled  potatoes,  sewed  it  up 
again.  When'this  was  done,  they  placed  the  hare  in  a 
suitable  spot  near  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  Svanholm 
was  unsuspectingly  led  in  that  direction.  The  hounds 
started;  the  cry  was:  “ Keep  watch  ! ” and  then  some 
one  shouted:  “ Look  out  there,  brother  Svanholm  ! ” 
Brother  Svanholm  was  not  slow  to  shoot;  bang!  the 
hare  tumbled  over  and  was  carried  in  triumph  to  the 
cottage.  A greater  exploit  Svanholm  had  not  achieved 
since  the  famous  retreat.  The  brave  Captain  was  the 
hero  of  the  day.  He  claimed  for  himself  the  right  of 
cutting  up  the  hare  according  to  the  rule  of  art,  and  of 
giving  the  heart  and  liver  to  the  hounds.  Miraculous! 
he  found  roast  mutton  in  the  hare.  “ The  d — 1,  brother 
Svanholm!  your  hares  eat  up  our  sheep!  ” Then  he 
found  the  herring:  “What,  the  deuce! — your  hares  go  a 
fishing!  ” At  last  the  boiled  potatoes:  “A  thousand 
d — brother  Svanholm!  your  hares  understand  boiling 
as  well  as  roasting!  ” But  Svanholm  was  quite  furious 
over  the  affair,  and  growled  under  his  moustaches  at 
Back  for  a whole  week  afterwards. 

The  summer  passed.  When  the  end  of  August 
drew  near,  and  Back,  as  usual,  was  invited  to  dine  on 
his  own  pike,  little  Jonathan  came  one  day,  with  rather 
an  important  air,  and  handed  him  a branch,  on  which 
were  three  large  dark-red  raspberries. 

“ Well  ? ” said  the  Surgeon,  and,  as  was  his  wont, 
lifted  the  little  fellow  up  by  his  collar,  about  as  one  lifts 
a kitten.  ^ 

“ Yes,  godfather,”  answered  Jonathan  briskly,  “now 
the  raspberries  are  ripe  in  the  woods.” 

“That’s  good,”  said  the  Surgeon,  and  set  the  boy 
on  his  feet  again,  after  a circumflex  in  the  air. 


THE  BLUE . 


11 


Anne  Sophie  was  cutting  up  sugar  at  the  sideboard 
close  by.  “Yes,”  cried  she,  “the  raspberries  are  ripe 
in  the  woods,  and  now  we  may  demand  a new  story.” 

“ H — m,”  said  the  Surgeon,  “the  whitings  are  at 
their  best  now,  and  the  broods  of  ducks  are  beginning 
to  fly;  in  three  weeks  we  shall  see.” 

Several  objections  to  waiting  were  interposed,  but 
none  availed.  Three  weeks  went  by.  The  Surgeon 
had  salted  a goodly  number  of  quarter-barrels  of  whit- 
ings, and  had  sent  home  a good  many  braces  of  sea- 
fowl  with  their  legs  tied  together.  It  became  too 
stormy,  dark,  and  chilly  to  stay  out  on  the  water.  Then 
one  day  at  the  dinner-table  the  old  man  was  heard  to 
say  of  his  own  accord:  “ This  evening  we  can  begin.” 

Said  and  done.  At  six  o’clock,  when  it  began  to 
grow  dark,  the  usual  company  sat  again  in  the  Sur- 
geon’s chamber.  Captain  Svanholm,  long  since  ap- 
peased, stroked  his  moustache  before  the  hearth;  Mas- 
ter Svenonius,  the  school-teacher,  fixed  the  fire  ; grand- 
mother was  knitting  a stocking ; Anne  Sophie  was 
picking  over  whortleberries,  and  the  boys  were  picking 
down,  being  seated  at  a little  distance  from  her.  that 
they  might  not  be  tempted  too  much  by  the  berries. 

The  Surgeon  looked  at  the  agile,  light-yellow  flame, 
winding  up  about  the  white  birch  wood,  and  did  not 
seem  in  any  hurry  to  begin.  The  children  grew  impa- 
tient. 

“ Now  we  shall  hear  about  Charles  XII,”  whispered 
Jonathan,  purposely  so  loud  that  the  others  heard  it. 

“ Be  quiet ! ” said  Svanholm.  “ Brother,  you  have 
a devilish  good  comrade  to  deal  with.  Those  who 
have  smelled  a little  powder  in  their  day,  as  you  and  I 
have,  understand  Charles  XII  rather  better  than  the 
quill-fighters  who  have  written  about  him.” 

“Powder-smoke  only  makes  men  black,”  said  the 
schoolmaster,  aroused  by  this  challenge.  “ I hold  that 
Charles  XII  has  to  thank  the  quill-fighters  who  have 
written  concerning  him,  for  much  of  his  greatness. 


12 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Suppose  one  had  asked  the  much-bled,  depopulated, 
and  famished  country,  after  his  death — ” 

“ Yes,  only  ask,”  interrupted  the  Captain,  “ only  ask, 
and  the  poorest  cottager  will  answer:  ‘ We  have  beaten 
the  Dane  and  the  German  and  the  Turk  and  the  Rus- 
sian ; devils  and  heroism!  that  have  we  done,  sir,  and 
that  have  we  done  under  Charles  XII.’  He  was  no 
fault-finding,  niggardly  fellow,  like  his  father,  and  if  he 
did  not  spare  others,  neither  did  he  spare  his  own  royal 
person.  Quill-fighters  would  have  done  something  for 
his  honor  ? They  would  have  blotted  his  blue  and  gold 
banner  with  ink!  ” 

“ Bernhard  Bertelskold  is  now  dead,”  said  the  old 
grandmother,  in  order  to  stop  the  controversy.  “ It 
seems  to  me  that  I have  known  him  from  childhood, 
and  a good  man  he  was;  yes,  I must  say  that  I liked 
him  from  the  first.” 

“ D — d if  I did,”  broke  in  the  Captain,  bluntly. 
“ Such  sweet-milk  counts  haven’t  two  stivers’  worth  of 
backbone  in  them.” 

Grandmother  lowered  her  voice,  and  said,  in  a tone 
which  immediately  silenced  the  brave  Captain  : 

“ I have  said  many  times  that  it  is  indecent  for  cousin 
Svanholm  to  swear  so  before  the  children.  If  cousin 
had  let  me  speak  to  the  end,  I would  have  said  some- 
thing more.  Cousin  ought  to  bear  in  mind  that  the 
departed  Count  Bertelskold  was  in  more  battles  than 
even  cousin  has  lived  through,  and  if  he  was  a courte- 
ous, good-natured  and  cultured  gentleman  instead  of  a 
ruffian  and  brawler, he  was  not  the  less  a braver  man  than 
cousin,  and  was  not  at  all  made  of  either  sweet  or 
sour  milk.  But  I cannot  reconcile  myself  to  his  end. 
I think  it  is  unchristian  and  awful  that  a man  so  good 
of  heart  and  mind  should  at  the  last  become  such  a 
captive  to  unbelief  and  worldly  thoughts  that  he  en- 
tirely forgets  to  think  of  his  poor  soul.  What  did  he 
live  for  ? The  supremacy  of  the  nobility  ? We  are  all 
of  us  common  people  ; we  cannot  understand  that.” 


THE  BLUE . 


13 


“ Our  class  will  certainly  come  to  the  front,  when  it 
is  the  Larssons’  time,”  remarked  Svenonius.  “ Between 
the  power  of  the  nobility,  the  people,  and  the  king,  the 
strife  is  per  scecula  sceculorum.  Sometime  I will  tell 
cousin  about  the  old  patricians  and  plebeians  of  Rome.  ” 

“ Thanks,  cousin,  but  I am  not  curious  ; I prefer  to 
keep  out  of  the  way  of  papists.  There  must  be  some 
papal  spell  connected  with  the  king’s  ring.  Righteous 
heavens  ! What  a forboder  of  misfortune  ! We  shall 
see  that  that  ring  will  yet  destroy  the  whole  Bertel- 
skold family.  I cannot  forgive  the  excellent  Greta  for 
not  casting  the  ring  into  the  sea,  as  she  thought  of  do- 
ing. It  would  have  been  a wise  and  discreet  thing  to 
do,  instead  of  allowingjherself  to  be  beguiled  into  giv- 
ing the  bewitched  thing  to  the  count.  Mark  my  word: 
I believe  Torsten  Bertelskold  will  give  her  little  thanks 
for  that.” 

“But,”  interrupted  Anne  Sophie  quickly,  “ to  suc- 
ceed in  everything  ! Think  of  it,  grandmother  ! The 
power  of  that  family  continually  increases,  and  the  ring 
descending  from  father  to  son,  in  the  sixth  generation 
one  becomes  a king ! It  is  already  in  the  third  or 
fourth  generation,  in  possession  of  Torsten  Bertelskold. 
What  a pity  we  cannot  turn  over  the  leaves  in  god- 
father’s mind,  as  one  turns  over  the  leaves  of  a book 
when  he  would  know  the  result  beforehand  ! ” 

“ My  dear  child,”  said  the  grandmother  seriously, 
“ it  seems  to  me  that  the  king’s  ring  ought  deeply  to 
impress  upon  us  the  words  : 4 What  is  a man  profited, 

if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?' 
What  happiness  or  what  benefit  had  the  elder  Bertel- 
skold and  Janssen  from  all  their  good  fortune?  Two 
men,  intended  for  something  better,  has  the  ring  al- 
ready destroyed  ; the  third,  it  turned  away  from  God  at 
the  close  of  life.  Be  sure  of  this  : it  will  destroy  still 
more.  Moreover,  I do  not  like  young  Torsten,  and  his 
brother  Gustaf  Adolph  I am  yet  too  little  acquainted 
with.  With  the  exception  of  Greta,  all  that  I had  any 


14 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


friendship  for  in  the  former  story  are  already  gone. 
We  must  have  new  people  now,  since  we  have  a new 
era.” 

With  these  words  the  grandmother  cast  a question- 
ing glance  at  the  old  Surgeon,  who  silently  and  con- 
templatively continued  to  gaze  at  the  flames  sporting  in 
the  great  old-fashioned  open  fire-place.  As  the  fire- 
light fell  upon  his  tall  figure  and  his  sunburnt  but  still 
strong  features,  it  occurred  to  all  that  an  unusually 
stern  expression  rested  on  his  furrowed  brow.  Often 
before  had  this  simple,  humble  man  grown  as  it  were 
with  his  subject,  so  that  he  was  no  longer  the  same  per- 
son while  he  talked.  Now  his  seriousness  became  so 
gloomy  that  the  children  looked  at  him  almost  with  af- 
fright. And  he  said,  as  if  to  himself  : 

“A  new  era !” 

Thereupon,  his  presence  of  mind  regained,  his 
countenance  cleared  up;  and  he  turned  to  Anne  Sophie 
saying  : “Put  more  wood  on  the  fire,  my  girl;  I would 
rather  see  flames  than  ashes.  And  seat  yourself  so 
that  I can  see  you  better,  my  child.  It  will  help  my 
story  if  I can  all  the  while  look  upon  your  kind  and 
cheerful  face.” 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  LION  SLEEPS. 

THE  grand,  powerful  and  high-minded  seventeenth 
century  had  just  laid  the  last  stone  upon  its  por- 
tion of  the  structure  of  the  world’s  history.  The  cur- 
tain had  fallen  upon  its  mighty  conflicts  for  power  and 
light;  its  long  series  of  years  and  achievements  un- 
rolled like  a panorama  to  the  view  of  the  thoughtful, 
and  people  asked  themselves  what  might  now  come. 


THE  BLUE . 


15 


For  it  was  not  the  accidental  change  of  dates  and  fig- 
ures that  made  a new  era  for  the  world;  stars  had  dis- 
appeared and  powers  decayed,  and  new  kingdoms  and 
new  thoughts  were  working  themselves  forward,  and 
where  was  the  man  who  could  govern  them?  He  who 
now  for  more  than  a generation  had  been  the  acknow- 
ledged lawgiver  for  both  genius  and  power,  he  who 
in  the  opinion  of  his  admirers  gave  a name  to  the  whole 
epoch — King  Louis  XIV  of  France — still  lived,  and 
believed  himself  called  to  write  laws  for  the  new  cen- 
tury as  he  had  done  for  the  old.  But  while  the  bards 
still  sung  his  praises,  and  kings  feared  his  statesman- 
ship even  more  than  his  arms  or  his  gold,  his  head  be- 
gan to  grow  heavy  with  age,  and  his  mind  with  ceaseless 
penitence.  Whilst  he  stretched  out  his  hand  after  new 
sceptres,  his  own  began  to  wear  away;  and  doubt, 
hitherto  dumb,  and  scorn,  tired  of  sealed  lips,  began  to 
scrutinize  the  encomiums  of  contemporaries  and  thus 
disclose  the  destiny  of  all  mortals — that  fate  which, 
sooner  or  later,  overtakes  the  glory  of  the  world. 

The  lower  the  sun  sank  toward  the  horizon  of  the 
epoch  of  Louis  XIV,  the  clearer  it  became  to  the 
thoughtful,  and  to  the  instinct  of  the  masses  them- 
selves, that  the  times  demanded  new  men  as  much 
as  new  ideas.  The  ideas  came  of  themselves.  They 
had  long  grown  in  silence,  and  waited  only  for  sun  and 
air  to  put  forth  new  leaves.  But  in  vain  did  one  look 
about  for  men.  Eugene  and  Marlborough  were 
thought  of;  the  great  strife  between  the  Bourbons  and 
the  Hapsburgs  was  closely  watched.  England  was 
seen  rapidly  increasing,  and  gaining  more  and  more 
advantage  over  her  rival,  Holland;  the  eye  was  turned 
from  Spain  fallen  and  oppressed,  from  Germany  sun- 
dered and  enfeebled,  from  Poland  egotistic  and  sui- 
cidal, to  the  hopeful  prospect  of  Turkey’s  incipent  weak- 
ness— Europe’s  bugbear  stripped  of  its  mask.  Every- 
where were  found  masses  and  powers,  but  seldom  men. 
Few  were  they  who  looked  to  the  north.  Barbarous 


16 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Russia  lay  in  apparent  lifelessness  and  debated  whether 
the  sign  of  the  cross  should  be  made  with  two  fingers 
or  with  three,  Sweden,  mistress  of  the  Baltic,  had 
negotiated  peace  at  Ryssvik,  but  its  sword  had  rested; 
gold  flowed  into  Charles  XI’s  treasury  under  the  Reduc- 
tion, and  a beardless  youth  without  ambition  or  ability 
— so  they  said — had  mounted  the  throne  to  hunt  bears. 

They  did  not  know  then  that  Peter  the  First  worked 
as  a carpenter  in  the  shops  at  Saardam.  They  did  not 
know  then  that  Charles  XII  as  a child  had  said 
when  he  read  Curtius,  and  was  asked  what  he 
thought  of  Alexander  the  Great, “ I will  be  like  him.’' 
And  when  he  was  told,  “ Alexander  the  Great  only 
lived  to  be  thirty-two  years  old,”  the  twelve-year-old 
prince  Charles  answered:  “ Is  not  that  enough  for 
one  who  has  conquered  empires  ?” 

They  wrote  1700  for  the  new  date.  It  was  a cold 
but  clear  winter  evening.  The  stars  looked  down  on 
Lake  Malaren,  covered  with  ice,  where  the  tramp  of 
horses’  feet  and  the  jingling  of  bells  was  now  and  then 
heard  through  the  frosty  air.  A few  hours  before,  the 
scene  was  livelier.  A pleasure  party  from  the  court 
had  driven  out  in  elegant  sleighs  trimmed  with  fringe; 
and  the  cheeks  of  many  a rosy  little  maiden  had  grown 
still  rosier,  and  many  a high-born  gallant  had  with  his 
own  hands  guided  his  snorting  charger  over  the  ice- 
field. But  this  evening  had  the  queen  dowager  Hed- 
vig  Eleonora,  the  king’s  paternal  grandmother,  invited 
the  court  to  an  evening  assembly  at  Drottningholm. 
The  widowed  queen  had  found  circumstances  unpleas- 
ant. She  would  willingly  have  had  a hand  in  govern- 
ing the  kingdom,  as  she  had  had  in  Charles  XI’s  youth; 
but  she  had  become  old,  and  her  grandson’s  hasty  words 
to  Count  Piper  at  the  review  of  a company,  that  he 
would  himself  command  such  brave  men,  had  been 
fulfilled  almost  as  soon  as  spoken.  Hedvig  Eleonora 
formed  her  resolution.  She  continued  to  build  pleasure 
resorts,  surrounded  herself  with  young  and  gay  people, 


THE  BLUE . 


17 


especially  artists,  and  thus  right  cheerfully  spent  her 
remaining  days  and  her  generous  income. 

The  wax  candles  in  Drottningholm’s  high  windows 
shone  brilliantly  out  over  the  lake,  when  two  horse- 
men, wrapped  in  short  army  cloaks,  galloped  forward 
over  the  ice  toward  the  castle,  while  three  or  four  sleighs 
in  the  distance  seemed  vainly  endeavoring  to  overtake 
them.  Having  reached  the  castle  court,  one  of  the 
riders  dismounted  and  approached  the  other,  who  re- 
mained on  his  horse  and  said  something  half  aloud. 
Thereupon  the  first  rider  fastened  his  horse  at  the  gate 
and  ran  up  the  castle  steps,  while  the  other  sat  there 
in  the  sharp  winter  cold  and  seemed  inclined  to  conceal 
his  face  from  the  glare  of  the  torches  and  tar-barrels 
that  were  burning  in  the  court. 

In  a moment  the  first  returned,  and  said,  in  a low 
voice  : “ Hard  is  sick;  he  cannot  go  along,  much  as  he 
wishes  it.  His  eyes  sparkled  in  his  head  as  I told  him  of 
your  majesty’s  adventure,  and  he  answered  merely  : 
4 She  never  would  have  broken  through  the  net  if  I had 
been  along.’  ” 

“ If  he  had  been  along  ?”  repeated  the  other,  an- 
noyed. “ Did  he  say  that,  the  old  stiff-neck  ? Well,  it 
is  honor  enough  for  him  that  I came  to  Drottningholm 
on  purpose  to  fetch  him.  We  will  ride  back  to  the  city, 
the  sleighs  will  follow  us,  and  we  will  try  our  luck  again 
in  the  morning.” 

“ It  is  hardly  worth  while  to  try  the  contemptible 
she-bears  when  Hard  is  absent,”  said  his  companion. 
“ Your  majesty  has  to-day  struck  down  the  shaggiest 
paw  that  ever  broke  a spear  in  pieces.  I will  wager 
that  the  sainted  king’s  hunting  record  can  show  noth- 
ing to  equal  it.  ’ 

“We  will  try  again  to-morrow,”  was  the  curt  answer. 

The  king,  for  it  was  he,  turned  his  horse  to  ride 
away  again,  when  the  queen  dowager’s  equerry,  Hoghu- 
sen,  followed  by  servants  with  torches,  besought  on 
behalf  of  his  mistress  that  his  majesty  would  honor 
E 1* 


18 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


the  assembly  in  the  castle  with  his  noble  presence. 
Taken  aback  at  being  recognized,  like  a boy  caught  in  a 
neighbor’s  fruit  tree,  the  king  wheeled  his  horse,  let  him 
make  a spring  toward  the  stairs,  and  purposely  rode 
straight  over  an  elegant  chamberlain  who  was  tripping 
across  the  court,  in  silk  stockings  and  shoes,  bearing 
dishes  of  preserved  fruits  and  other  delicacies  for  the 
court  ladies.  The  joke  was  rather  a severe  one  ; the 
poor  fellow  stumbled  and  went  down  with  a bloody 
nose,  and  all  the  rare  contents  of  his  salver  were 
spilled  into  the  snow.  The  king,  laughing,  threw  him 
a gold  coin,  and  went  up  to  his  grandmother  in  a much 
better  mood  than  he  would  have  been  in  but  for  this 
circumstance. 

The  inner  staircase  in  Drottningholm  castle  is,  as  is 
well  known,  a masterpiece  by  Nicodemus  Tessin — a 
work  in  so  light  and  agreeable  a style,  that  it  seems  to  be 
built  especially  for  the  feet  of  the  Graces  and  the  tip- 
toes of  princesses.  The  king  tramped  up  the  stairs  with 
rattling  spurs  and  steps  so  heavy  that  one  might  easily 
believe  he  was  riding  up.  In  the  upper  vestibule  he  was 
met  by  the  queen-dowager,  costumed  as  Ceres — at  least 
she  had  a cornucopia  and  a bunch  of  silvered  grain- 
heads;  and  after  a few  compliments,  which  on  the  part  of 
the  king  were  quite  monosyllabic,  he  was  led  into  one 
of  the  great  halls,  on  the  walls  of  which  are  still  seen 
and  admired  the  battle-pieces  of  Charles  Gustaf  and 
Charles  XI,  painted  by  Ehrenstrahl. 

Charles  XII  had  inherited  much  of  his  father’s 
shyness  in  the  presence  of  women,  and  was,  if  pos- 
sible, still  more  indifferent  than  he  to  the  allurements 
of  pleasure.  Seventeen  years  old,  nearly  three  years  a 
king,  what  an  object  he  would  have  been  for  all  seduc- 
tive arts  and  innocent  admiration,  had  not  his  thorough 
indifference  warded  off  the  shafts  of  beauty  in  ad- 
vance ! When  he  entered  the  hall,  where  a motley  mul- 
titude swarmed  about  in  the  brightest  costumes,  it 
suddenly  became  silent  as  if  a winter  snow  had  fallen 


THE  BLUE. 


19 


down  over  the  spring  of  youth  and  gayety  which  just 
now  were  making  merry  in  the  lustre  of  the  wax-lights. 
The  king  went,  somewhat  embarrassed  it  seemed,  with 
slight  bows  and  brief  salutations,  along  the  brilliant  lines, 
until  at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall  he  found  some  of 
the  officers  of  the  life-guard,  with  whom  he  entered  into 
conversation,  glad  in  that  way  to  avoid  the  curious 
glances  which  annoyed  him. 

He  had  scarcely  disappeared  in  the  crowd  before 
youth  and  levity  resumed  the  full  enjoyment  of  their 
rights.  Roguish  laughter,  mingled  with  cutting  re- 
marks, played  upon  the  lips  of  the  young  ladies  and 
their  cavaliers.  They  looked  down  at  the  waxed  floor 
and  then  at  each  other,  while  they  sought  to  conceal  a 
merriment  which  by  that  very  means  became  more  un- 
governable. The  cause  was  evident.  Without  think- 
ing about  it,  the  king  had  come  into  the  dancing  hall 
just  as  he  was,  after  a twenty  mile  ride  on  an  adventu- 
rous chase.  The  marks  thereof  were  visible  enough  on 
his  dress;  probably  he  was  still  spattered  with  the  bear’s 
blood  which  so  lately  flowed  before  his  short  spear. 
But  they  were  accustomed  to  such  things,  and  the  cour- 
age of  the  hunter,  like  that  of  the  warrior,  seldom  fails 
of  its  impression  on  vivacious  temperaments.  There 
was  something  besides  this  which  increased  the  mirth  of 
the  company, — a little  circumstance  which  not  even  a 
king  can  forget  unpunished  by  laughter — and  that  was, 
that  he  had  entered  in  his  high  hunting-boots,  which 
were  covered  with  snow.  The  result  was  that  every 
step  the  royal  youth  took  over  the  brightly  polished 
floor,  which  seemed  designed  to  be  trodden  by  silken 
shoes  only,  left  dark  wet  tracks  of  his  great  boots, 
which  royal  footprints  the  young  people  jocosely 
pointed  at,  when  one  of  the  ladies  was  bold  enough  to 
ask  her  friends  to  behold  “King  Charles’s  galaxy.” 

They  did  not  then  know,  these  gay  and  bustling 
court  butterflies,  that  King  Charles  would  leave  many  a 
track  after  him  as  he  went  through  the  world — not  of 


20 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


the  white  snow,  but  blood-red  tracks,  which  should  lead 
from  Stockholm’s  saloons  right  across  Europe  even  to 
the  shore  of  the  Black  Sea. 

Among  those  who  did  not  spare  their  witticisms  at 
these  innocent  traces  of  the  royal  feet,  was  a tall  slim 
youth  of  a pale  and  sickly  appearance,  with  blonde 
hair  and  refined  and  intelligent  but  somewhat  scornful 
features.  A jest  concerning  the  “ bear’s  paws”  had 
just  escaped  his  lips,  when  he  felt  a heavy  hand  on  his 
shoulder  and  heard  some  one  whisper  in  his  ear  in  a 
voice  trembling  with  wrath  : “ Be  careful,  Torsten,  of 

playing  tricks  with  the  bear  ; it  might  be  that  you 
would  find  yourself  in  the  lion’s  claws.” 

The  person  addressed  turned  around  and  saw  be- 
fore him  a handsome  black-haired  youth  of  scarcely 
sixteen  years,  but  so  full-chested  and  broad-shouldered 
that  in  spite  of  his  youth  he  was  evidently  an  opponent 
not  to  be  despised.  This  youth  was  the  same  horse- 
man who  had  accompanied  the  king  to  Drottningholm, 
and  he  wore  the  same  hunting  dress  which  had  drawn 
upon  his  master  the  jests  of  the  court. 

The  pale  youth,  costumed  as  Mercury,  measured  the 
other  with  a look  which  might  indicate  fatherly  solici- 
tude but  which  really  implied  a great  deal  of  ridicule. 
“ What  ails  you,  Gustaf  ?”  said  he  ; “what  a dress  ! 
Look  about  you,  my  friend;  you  are  not  just  at  present 
out  in  the  woods.  Make  no  mistake  about  high  stand- 
ing. This  company  is  not  pines  nor  firs;  and  above 
all,  mon  coeur , do  not  mistake  the  ladies  for  junipers. 
Are  you  sure  of  being  invited,  pauvre  Gustaf  ? I pray 
you,  borrow  my  wings  and  make  yourself  distant,  or  at 
least  change  your  costume  ; you  might,  for  example, 
represent  Cerberus.” 

The  dark  youth,  whose  arm  was  certainly  stronger 
than  his  tongue,  would  probably  have  given  a passion- 
ate answer,  if  at  that  instant  a very  young  girl,  scarcely 
fifteen,  in  the  costume  of  a wood-nymph,  had  not  taken 
him  by  the  arm  and  whispered:  “Never  mind  him, 


THE  BLUE. 


21 


Gustaf;  he  is  in  the  habit  of  sharpening  his  words  on  the 
keen  maids  of  honor.  Come,  I belong  to  the  woods 
too  ; I will  get  you  a cap  with  a green  plume,  and  then 
an  attendant  shall  brush  your  coat.  You  are  handsomer 
than  all  the  rest  of  them  now,”  she  added  playfully,  and 
with  such  kindness  beaming  in  her  mild  blue  eyes  that 
Gustaf  felt  pacified  and  willingly  let  her  lead  him  to 
one  of  the  side  rooms. 

Torsten  smiled,  and  turned  on  his  heel  to  seek  new 
targets  for  his  shafts  of  wit. 

“ Can  your  ladyship  tell  me  who  are  those  three 
young  people  over  there  ?”  said  a newly  arrived  foreign 
ambassador  to  one  of  the  queen’s  waiting  women.  “One 
seems  to  be  head,  another  hand,  and  the  third  heart,  of 
the  same  family.” 

“ Rightly  guessed,  my  good  viscount,”  answered 
the  maid  of  honor.  “ You  see  there  the  three  children 
of  the  Bertelskold  family;  perhaps  you  were  acquainted 
with  the  late  Count,  an  amiable  gentleman,  but  ruined 
by  the  Reduction.  The  pale  young  man,  Count  Tor- 
sten, is  devoting  himself  to  diplomacy,  and  has  lately 
obtained  a situation  with  the  Swedish  legation  in  Paris. 
The  younger,  Count  Gustaf  Adolf,  is  an  ensign  in  the 
life-dragoons,  and  is  one  of  our  young  king’s  va-partout. 
The  sweet  fair  girl  is  Ebba  Cecelia  Bertelskold,  of 
whom  all  the  malice  in  the  court  finds  nothing  ill  to 
say,  although  through  her  aunt,  the  Countess  Sparre, 
she  has  lately  been  appointed  acting  maid  of  honor  to 
the  princess  Ulrika  Eleonora.  There,  my  dear  viscount, 
have  I not  given  you  an  edifying  little  family  history  ? 
But  what  do  I see  ! It  has  pleased  his  majesty  to  as- 
sume the  costume  of  Mars,  the  god  of  war.  I venture 
most  humbly  to  suggest  that  our  god  of  war  lacks  one 
little  attribute  which  the  ancients  never  forgot  to  en- 
dow him  with — and  that  is,  whiskers.  Upon  my  honor, 
viscount,  a beardless  war-god  ! — it  appears  to  me  that 
is  as  natural  as  the  Graces  in  mustaches  !” 

The  viscount  smiled,  and  upon  his  lips  there  faltered 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


one  of  those  objections  which  are  made  merely  to  be 
refuted.  But  before  we  listen  further  to  this  conversa- 
tion, let  us  seek  an  explanation  of  how  it  was  possible 
to  induce  this  morose  young  king,  just  returned  from 
a bear-hunt,  to  masquerade  at  a court  ball. 

The  queen-dowager  Hedvig  Eleonora  had  the  same 
solicitude  for  her  grandson  Charles  XII  as  she  for- 
merly had  for  her  son  Charles  XI.  This  wild,  unbrushed 
and  unkempt  boy,  who  could  not  talk  French,  must  be 
taught  common-sense  and  royal  manners  ; in  her  moth- 
erly solicitude  it  was  not  esteemed  sufficient  that 
he  could  drill  soldiers  and  talk  Latin;  in  order  to  govern 
a kingdom,  he  must  also  be  able  to  address  a brilliant 
lady  and  figure  in  a ballet.  Unfortunate  mother  ! her 
endeavors  in  that  direction  had  altogether  failed  in  the 
case  of  Charles  XI,  as  she  had  realized  with  grief  dur- 
ing the  long  twenty-five  years  when  the  court  chroni- 
cles were  filled  with  devotional  exercises,  army  drills, 
racing,  hunting,  and  ice-fishing.  Queen  Ulrika  Eleonora 
had  never  learned  to  play  femkort  and  ruff  ; but  the 
time  had  now  come  to  enjoy  a gayer  life  in  Sweden. 
Charles  XII  must  be  reared  a gentleman  ; this  was 
difficult;  and  the  day  when,  at  his  coronation,  he  set  the 
crown  on  his  own  head,  the  old  grandmother  began  to 
fear  that  the  boy,  by  being  made  a governor  himself, 
had  become  ungovernable  for  others. 

What  tribulations  she  had  already  had  with  little 
Charles,  when  he  had  told  Behm,  the  court  painter,  to 
his  face,  that  he  looked  like  a monkey  ! The  queen- 
dowager  took  the  artist’s  part ; the  prince  must  beg  his 
pardon — but  no,  he  stood  by  his  words  : “ Behm  looked 
like  a monkey.”  It  was  not  easy  to  make  so  stubborn 
a will  bend  to  courtesy.  The  old  grandmother  held  firm- 
ly to  her  convictions;  and  she  certainly  meant  well,  ac- 
cording to  her  view  of  the  matter.  She  recalled  with 
regret  the  splendor  of  the  old  regency  days  ; scarcely 
had  Charles  XI  closed  his  eyes,  and  there  had  hardly 
been  time  to  recover  one’s  self  after  the  great  fire  at 


THE  BLUE, 


23 


the  castle,  before,  in  the  first  place,  the  king’s  burial  was 
celebrated  with  such  pomp  as  had  not  been  seen  in 
Sweden  for  a long  time.  Next  came  the  coronation, 
and  then  a royal  wedding  ; and  thus  the  court  festivi- 
ties by  degrees  were  set  on  foot.  The  young  king  as- 
sented, with  the  stipulation  that  he  should  be  allowed 
to  pursue  his  own  pleasure,  according  to  his  own  will. 
But  neither  his  own  inclinations  nor  his  submissiveness 
to  his  grandmother  led  Charles  XII  upon  this  round  of 
brilliant  amusements.  It  was  his  affection  for  his  be- 
loved and  amiable  elder  sister,  Hedvig  Sophie,  just 
then,  in  the  flower  of  her  youth,  married  to  the  young 
and  gay  Duke  Frederick  of  Schleswig  Holstein.  For 
her  sake,  silver  gathered  by  the  Reduction  flowed  from 
Charles  XI’s  treasury  for  masquerades  and  court-balls; 
for  her  sake,  Charles  XII  many  a time  forgot  his  own 
hunting  excursions  to  take  part  in  his  sister’s  gentler 
pleasures.  It  was  she,  the  good  and  happy  royal  child 
— child  enough  still  to  exchange  the  offer  of  the  crown 
of  England  for  a little  disputed  dukedom,  and  innocent 
enough  not  to  notice  her  little  highness’s  early  crown  of 
thorns  — it  was  she  who  caused  Europe  to  mistake 
the  young  lion’s  temper,  and  thereby  indirectly  wove  to- 
gether the  tangled  threads  of  the  great  northern  war. 

Hedvig  Sophie  was  now  at  Kiel,  and  from  there 
wrote  the  letters  of  a princess  of  eighteen  to  a seven- 
teen year  old  prince.  A courier  had  just  arrived  with 
one  of  these  letters,  so  full  of  childish  innocence,  and 
the  queen  dowager  had  received  it  in  the  king’s  ab- 
sence. The  old  lady  knew  how  to  conceal  her  vexation 
at  the  king’s  entrance  to  her  brilliant  ball  in  his  stained 
hunting  dress,  and  she  once  more  determined  to  “ bring 
up  ” her  lordly  grandson.  She  sought  him  out  among 
the  officers,  pretending  that  she  had  an  important  mat- 
ter to  lay  before  him.  This  important  matter  was 
Hedvig  Sophie’s  letter,  accompanied  by  an  elegant  har- 
lequin’s mask  in  a richly  ornamented  Holstein  basket. 

The  king  read  the  letter,  and  the  farther  he  read  the 


24 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


more  the  cloud  cleared  away  from  his  noble  forehead, 
until  at  sight  of  the  mask  he  burst  out  in  a laugh  so 
hearty  and  so  happy  that  it  was  easy  to  see  how  warmly 
his  heart  throbbed  for  his  sister — for  the  only  woman 
besides  his  mother  who  could  ever  boast  of  being  loved 
by  Charles  XII. 

Smiling,  he  handed  the  letter  to  the  queen-dowager, 
who  with  some  difficulty  spelled  out  the  following  lov- 
ingly careless  lines: 

To  the  King  of  Sweden. 

Most  Mighty  King: 

I hope  that  this  letter  may  find  your  majesty  in  good 
health  and  since  I have  promised  in  my  former  letter  to  tell  you 
of  the  amusements  which  P.  Christian  was  about  to  give,  I will 
tell  you  in  this  that  last  Friday  there  was  a ball  here  and  a Colla- 
tion besides,  and  after  the  Collation  was  over,  P.  Marie  Elizabeth, 
and  P.  Christian  and  the  other  ladies  and  gentlemen,  disguised 
themselves  in  Scaramouch  clothes,  and  danced  an  entre  which  was 
right  pleasant,  when  they  had  danced  out,  then  the  duke  and  I 
and  my  women  disguised  ourselves  as  a full  Harlequin’s  band, 
and  came  in  dancing,  the  duke  was  Harlequin  and  I was  Madam 
Harlequin,  and  the  others  represented  all  the  other  buffoons,  which 
looked  quite  laughable,  we  danced  till  it  was  day,  there  are  a good 
many  folks  here  out  of  service  who  have  come  here  to  Kiel  by  way 
of  a show,  we  have  assemblies  here  over  three  times  a week  and  twice 
a week  we  have  balls  and  the  other  days  we  go  to  the  theatre,  now 
the  word  is  that  the  Duke  and  I must  give  some  pleasure  parties  on 
our  side,  so  it  will  soon  be  done,  I wish  that  we  could  be  so  fortunate 
as  to  have  Your  Majesty  here  and  then  all  our  amusements  would 
be  perfect,  the  duke  sends  his  most  gracious  compliments  to  Your 
Majesty  and  her  highness  does  the  same,  for  the  rest  I beg  You 
to  the  end  of  the  world  to  keep  me  in  your  grace,  who  is  with  the 
greatest  submission  Your  Majesty’s 

humblest  most  faithful  Sister  and  servant 

Hedvig  Sophie. 

Kiel  the  16  January, 

I desire  you  to  give  my  most  gracious  compliments  to  the  queen, 
and  greet  my  Sister  after  my  fashion  if  Your  Majesty  would  like 
to  see  my  Mask  I send  it  herewith,  hope  Your  Majesty  will  not 
take  it  ungraciously  because  I take  this  liberty.  . . . 

It  was  under  the  influence  of  this  happy  letter,  and 
with  thoughts  of  the  duchess,  that  Charles  XII  allowed 


THE  BLUE . 


25 


himself  to  be  attired  in  the  costume  the  queen-dowager 
had  in  readiness  for  him — the  costume  of  the  war-god 
Mars. 

But  this  time  the  war-god  was  not  frightful.  The 
sunshine  on  his  brow  did  not  fail  to  have  an  enlivening 
influence  on  all  those  butterflies  which  fluttered  about 
in  the  palace  halls.  The  dancing  became  more  frolic- 
some; they  had  a ballet,  in  which  the  beautiful  Stina 
Fleming  represented  Calypso,  and  the  Finn  Arvid  Horn, 
afterward  so  renowned,  took  Ulysses’  role*  The  ballet 
was  varied  with  a pastoral  written  by  Count  Carl 
Gyllenborg,  in  which  Calypso  is  heard  to  declaim: 

“ Gracious  sun,  O quickly  go, 

Let  the  sea  thy  brightness  cover, 

Let  the  silent  darkness  hover, 

In  thy  going  be  not  slow. 

“ Sea  and  wood  can  listen  dumb, 

Part  in  all  my  sorrow  taking; 

All  with  me  lament  are  making, 

Since  my  angel  doth  not  come.” 


The  king  did  not  dance.  Among  the  teachers  of 
his  boyhood  there  was  a dancing-master,  of  course,  but 
the  advancement  of  the  prince  in  this  noble  art  was, 
and  remained,  like  a certain  cadet’s,  “ unobservable.” 
The  twelve  year  old  princess  Ulrika  Eleonora  took 
the  part  of  shepherdess.  By  a rose-colored  ribbon  she 
led,  not  a lamb,  which  really  belonged  to  the  costume, 
but  the  king’s  favorite  hound  Pompey,  decorated  for 
the  occasion  with  an  embroidered  necktie.  It  was  the 
same  Pompey  so  celebrated  afterwards,  whose  Latin 
epitaph  by  Holmstrom  became  well  known  even  in 
foreign  lands,  and  is  found  thus  translated: 

“ Pompey  served  the  king  aright, 

Slept  upon  his  bed  at  night; 

When  his  years  and  toils  were  numbered, 

At  his  master’s  feet  he  slumbered. 


2 


26 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“ Maidens  sweet  have  fondly  sighed 
Pompey’s  life  to  make  their  story; 

Heroes  brave,  in  search  of  glory, 

Longed  to  die  as  Pompey  died.” 

During  the  ballet  the  experienced  eye  of  the  queen- 
dowager  might  have  been  seen  studying  whether  beauty 
and  grace  would  not  finally  make  an  impression  on  this 
heart  of  marble,  only  seventeen  years  old.  She  would 
gladly  have  seen  a beginning  made.  She  ventured  to 
throw  out  a remark  concerning  Calypso’s  charms,  but 
the  king  answered  quickly  : 

“ Calypso  was  a witch,  and  I do  not  intend  to  be 
bewitched.” 

“ Nevertheless  the  day  will  come  when  your  majes- 
ty will  be  charmed  by  a beautiful  princess  and  Sweden 
will  have  a queen.” 

“Who  knows,”  said  the  king  laughing,  “when  I am 
thirty  years  old!  ” 

In  the  meantime  the  diplomat  continued  in  his  own 
way  to  make  himself  familiar  with  current  opinions  con- 
cerning the  king’s  character. 

“ His  majesty  must  have  a courageous  temper,  of 
which  great  enterprises  may  be  expected,”  said  he. 

“ God  protect  us  from  such  courage  my  best  vis- 
count,” answered  her  ladyship  in  the  arm-chair.  “If 
you  call  it  courage  to  break  the  necks  of  horses,  bears 
and  men — oh,  well,  I admit  his  majesty  can  compete  in 
that  with  King  Orre  himself.  Just  imagine:  last  sum- 
mer there  was  a sea-fight  here.  His  majesty  and  Cap- 
tain Horn  contested  in  small  boats  on  Lake  Malaren. 
To  be  sure,  instead  of  cannons  they  had  the  city  fire 
engines,  and  instead  of  muskets  they  had  hand- 
syringes.  With  these  they  threw  water  upon  each  oth- 
er so  long  that  Horn’s  boat  began  to  sink  and  he  was 
obliged  to  jump  into  the  sea.  “ Is  the  leak  dangerous?” 
shouted  his  majesty.  “ No,  provided  a man  is  not 
afraid,”  replied  Horn,  who  is  a good  swimmer.  Plump, 
the  king  jumped  in  after  him,  and  I assure  you,  vis- 


THE  BLUE . 


27 


count,  that  the  Pfalz-house  would  from  that  moment 
have  ceased  to  reign  in  the  male  line  had  not  Horn 
caught  the  king  by  the  hair  and  dragged  him  to  land.” 

“ Even  kings  are  not  free  from  boyish  tricks”  said 
the  viscount.  “But  one  can  also  see  something  chiv- 
alrous in  this.” 

“ Chivalrous  ? Grand  dieu  ! Then  you  should  have 
seen  his  young  majesty  at  Ystad  in  Skane  last  spring  ! 
Live  geese  were  hung  up  on  a gallows,  and  peasant 
women  and  girls  assembled  in  multitudes  to  ride  at  full 
speed  and  pull  off  the  heads  of  the  geese,  and  for  every 
head  he  gave  them  a ducat.  What  do  you  say  to  that, 
my  dear  viscount  ?” 

“ His  majesty  has  nevertheless  with  great  diligence 
devoted  himself  to  science,”  observed  the  diplomat 
with  a shrug. 

“Just  passably.  They  say  he  studied  mathe- 
matics some,  but  since  he  became  king  he  has  forgot- 
ten how  a book  looks.” 

“ His  majesty  is  said  to  be  very  brusque  in  his 
ways.” 

“ Like  a country  squire.  God  save  me  from  saying 
a disparaging  word  of  our  young  master.  Without 
doubt  he  is  a very  modest  youth  ; yet  it  is  said  that  he 
paid  considerable  attention  to  a certain  SaraTorne,  the 
wife  of  his  valet  de  chambre , Diiben.  What  could  you 
expect — a sovereign  from  the  nursery  !” 

Just  then  the  ballet  commenced,  and  the  conversa- 
tion was  broken  off. 

After  the  ballet,  came  the  supper;  and  it  is  probable 
that  there  was  served — as  Count  Tessin  describes — fif- 
teen courses,  four  small  plates  and  “ pyramids  ” and 
seventeen  baskets  of  confections.  After  supper  they 
returned  to  the  city;  and  this  was  accomplished  in  a 
very  peculiar  manner. 

As  many  of  the  court,  both  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
as  had  courage  for  it,  were  packed  two  and  two,  in 
small  sleds,  which  were  fastened  to  each  other  by  the 


28 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


poles,  all  in  a row,  so  that  by  this  means  there  were 
sixteen  sleds  in  a line.  In  front  of  the  first  sled,  in 
which  sat  the  king  with  Horn,  were  harnessed  sixteen 
horses,  not  in  spans  or  pairs,  but  the  whole  sixteen 
in  line  one  after  the  other  so  that  the  jockey  who  rode 
the  leader  directed  the  whole  train.  And  thus  they  set 
out,  sixteen  horses  and  sixteen  sleds  in  line,  cautiously 
at  first  on  account  of  the  curves,  but  as  soon  as  they 
were  out  on  the  ice,  at  breakneck  speed,  so  that  the  snow 
blew  about  them.  It  was  of  no  use  to  shudder  and 
turn  pale  when  one  went  with  King  Charles,  for  he  gave 
no  quarter.  If  a sled  suddenly  overturned,  the  occu- 
pants must  take  care  of  themselves  and  try  to  set  their 
sled  to  rights  again,  otherwise  they  would  drag  in  the 
snow  and  no  one  would  take  the  trouble  to  stop  for 
them.  Therefore  there  were  many  bruises  and  scratches 
before  they  reached  the  city  ; but  the  king  was  never 
in  better  spirits  than  when  everything  went  so  wildly 
that  both  himself  and  others  tumbled  down,  with  dan- 
ger of  being  run  over  and  killed. 

The  diplomat,  having  reached  his  room  in  the  city, 
sat  down  that  same  night  to  complete  for  his  govern- 
ment a description  of  the  young  Swedish  monarch, 
which  he  had  already  begun,  and  in  which  Charles  XII 
was  portrayed  in  about  the  following  manner: 

“ Strong  and  toughened  body,  manly  appearance 
beyond  his  years,  narrow  mental  capacity,  neglected 
acquirements,  heedless  disposition,  given  to  all  kinds  of 
childish  amusements.  Add  to  this,  incredible  obstinacy 
united  with  a foolhardiness  which  will  soon  shorten  his 
life  if  he  is  not  led  into  excesses  for  which  he  does  not 
lack  inclination  so  completely  as  is  believed.  Your 
majesty’s  government  can  be  calm  in  reference  to  the 
political  results  of  an  unlimited  power  in  this  wild  boy’s 
hands.  He  will  never  play  any  great  role , and  if  he 
attempts  it  he  will  inevitably  fail.  We  may  be  calm; 
this  young  eagle  will  in  time  become  only  a cuckoo.” 

How  human  wisdom  prophesies  ! 


THE  BLUE. 


29 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  LION  WAKES. 


HO  has  not  seen  the  thunder-storm  approach 


vv  in  summer — the  dark  clouds  rising  up  along 
the  horizon  ? The  country-folks  dance  in  the  meadow, 
the  children  frolic  in  the  green  grass;  no  one  thinks  of 
danger,  every  one  lives  in  the  passing  moment.  Wilder 
becomes  the  dance,  the  frolic  bolder;  the  air  grows 
oppressive,  sweat  drips  from  brow  and  cheek  un- 
noticed; the  frenzy  seizes  even  the  calmest;  unbridled 
joy  hastens  to  empty  pleasure’s  brimming  cup  ere  it  is 
overturned;  the  flies  bite  more  boldly,  the  birds  fly 
swifter;  there  is  an  excess  with  all  living  as  well  as  with 
all  dumb  nature,  and  the  old  shake  their  heads,  talking 
about  “ bringing  on  rain.” 

Then,  in  the  midst  of  the  giddiness  of  the  dance 
and  of  the  vehemence  of  the  games,  a flash  of  lightning 
suddenly  lights  up  the  dark  cloud;  sharp  rolling  thun- 
der follows,  and  rain  begins  to  fall  in  heavy  drops.  The 
ranks  of  the  players  are  broken,  hand  is  snatched  from 
hand,  laughter  flees,  song  and  music  are  quickly 
silenced; — scattered  in  all  directions,  the  crowd  in  the 
fields  hasten  to  seek  shelter  from  the  rising  storm. 

Not  unlike  such  a scene  was  the  Swedish  court  at 
the  beginning  of  the  year  1700.  Clouds  obscured  the 
horizon;  the  vision  of  a seer  might  have  discerned  the 
giant  shadow  of  Czar  Peter  in  the  east  and  the  Saxon’s 
Hercules’  club  and  Jutland’s  clenched  fist  in  the  clouds 
of  the  south.  But  Swedenborg  was  yet  silent.  King 
Charles,  the  youth  of  seventeen,  still  had  faith  in  the 
oaths  of  princes,  and  the  warning  words  of  venerable 
statemanship  sounded  like  the  harsh  croak  of  the  raven 


30 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


through  the  court  castles  amid  the  youthful  pleas- 
ures of  the  northern  spring. 

To  avoid  Denmark’s  assault,  the  duke  and  duchess 
of  Holstein  had  sought  an  asylum  in  the  royal  castle. 
A ray  of  sunshine  before  the  thunder-storm  had  come 
with  them,  to  gild  the  court  festivities;  the  young 
Duchess  Hedvig  Sophie  had  forgotten  her  banishment 
and  her  lost  crown  in  the  delight  of  once  more  breath- 
ing the  winter  air  of  her  fatherland,  and  of  seeing  a 
gayer  court  swarming  about  the  burnt  palace  of  her 
royal  father. 

Had  a Lapland  seeress  stepped  forward  amid  the 
buzz  of  the  ball  and  said  to  the  amiable  “ Madame 
Harlequin”  : “ Dance,  dance,  beautiful  princess,  while 

life  still  has  roses  to  offer  you  ! — Before  two  summers 
have  passed,  your  young  duke  will  fall,  the  first  brill- 
iant victim  at  the  side  of  Charles  XII;  during  seven 
years  of  widowhood  shall  you  watch  over  a son;  that 
son  shall  wed  the  daughter  of  him  whom  his  father 
fought;  your  grandson  shall  reign  in  an  imperial  castle, 
built  on  ground  now  belonging  to  Sweden,  snatched 
from  your  brother  and  your  sister  by  your  son’s  father- 
in-law; — your  grandson’s  son  and  his  descendants,  gen- 
eration after  generation,  shall  bear  the  scepter  of  the 
Orient; — from  thee  shall  descend  the  mighty  ones  who 
shall  reign  over  wider  lands  than  any  mortal  before 
them  ever  ruled; — in  a hundred  years  shall  your  grand- 
son’s grandson  take  away  a third  part  of  what  remains 
of  your  father’s  and  your  brother’s  territory; — in  a hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  Europe  shall  stand  in  battle  array 
against  the  son  of  your  grandson’s  grandson,  and  a 
foreign  house  shall  with  difficulty  hold  back  their 
fathers’  land;  ” — perhaps  the  young  Countess  Hedvig 
Sophie  would  have  paused  in  the  dance,  and  thought- 
fully cast  down  her  mild  blue  eyes  before  the  picture 
which  the  future  unrolled.  But  the  Norns  had  com- 
passion on  so  much  innocence  and  beauty;  they  veiled 
her  eyes  to  the  vicissitudes  of  the  future  with  rosy- 


THE  BLUE. 


31 


colored  gauze,  and  the  duchess  continued  to  dance  and 
rejoice  and  hope,  as  youth  does  when  it  lives  in  the 
passing  moment,  and  builds  upon  it  its  dreamed 
eternity. 

The  horizon  was  becoming  obscured;  the  storm  drew 
nearer.  Frederick  IV,  King  of  Denmark,  invaded 
Holstein,  beleaguered  Tonningen,  took  possession  of 
Gottorp.  Hedvig  Sophie  wept  for  her  castle,  and 
smiled  after  the  tears. 

Frederick  August,  King  of  Saxony  and  Poland,  he 
who  with  his  right  hand  bent  together  a horse-shoe, 
silently  gathered  his  armies  against  the  borders  of  Liv- 
onia, while  his  ambassador,  in  words  as  sweet  as  honey, 
was  talking  of  eternal  friendship.  Patkull’s  hatred  and 
patriotism  drove  alternately  the  princes  and  the  people 
to  Sweden’s  destruction.  The  Swedish  court  continued 
to  amuse  itself. 

Peter  I had  begun  to  lift  Russia  upon  his  giant 
shoulders.  While  he  let  the  land  breeze  of  Europe 
blow  over  the  steppes  of  his  broad  domain,  he  sought  a 
vent  through  which  might  stream  in  a warmer  sea- 
breeze  than  that  of  the  Artie  sea.  From  Azov’s  pinna- 
cles he  looked  out  over  the  Orient  and  the  Black  Sea.  But 
it  seemed  to  him  too  far  ; his  longing  could  only  be 
quenched  by  the  waves  of  the  Baltic.  He  drew  to- 
gether his  barbarous  hosts  and  struck  hands  with  the 
Saxons  at  Birnau.  King  Charles  ordered  a bear-hunt 
at  Kongsor. 

The  wise  men  of  the  land  said:  “Our  king  is  blind.” 
But  King  Charles  saw  only  the  oaths  and  the  treaties. 
They  cut  off  all  further  prospect  like  a wall. 

One  day  in  the  beginning  of  March,  1700,  a hunt- 
ing party  was  assembled  at  Kongsor,  fourteen  miles 
from  Stockholm.  The  king  was  in  a merry  humor,  and 
the  Duke  of  Holstein,  who  constantly  accompanied  him, 
had  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  wild  hunting-stories. 
Now  it  was  a fallow  deer,  now  a wild  boar,  now  an 
elector,  now  a comely  miller-girl,  that  played  the  chief 


32 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


role  in  these  adventures.  The  king  was  pleased  with 
them.  The  fresh  spring  air  played  about  the  pine  for- 
est; the  snowdrifts  melted  at  midday,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing the  snow  crust  bore  up  admirably. 

The  very  first  day,  a bear  was  surrounded,  and 
Hard  came  to  receive  his  master’s  orders.  The  king 
turned  to  the  duke: — “My  brother  said  that  the  Elector 
of  Brandenburg  captured  his  wild-boars  alive  ?” 

“Yes,”  answered  the  duke.  “He  caught  his  game 
in  snares,  which  he  set  in  the  beech  woods  and  near 
the  mill-dams.” 

“ Snares  I cannot  endure,”  continued  the  king. 
“ But  if  the  elector  caught  wild  boars,  I will  catch 
bears.  Hard,  have  the  net  stretched.  But  let  none  of 
the  hunters  take  their  fire-arms  with  them.” 

“ The  bear-spears  are  in  order,”  replied  Hard. 

“ Not  one  of  the  hunters  is  permitted  to  take  a 
spear.” 

“ But,”  objected  the  astonished  equerry,  “ these 
beasts  are  too  rough  to  be  taken  by  the  collar.” 

“ Get  good  cudgels  for  us  all,  three  and  a half  feet 
long,  oak  or  birch  as  you  please.  Station  every  man  at 
his  post,  and  give  orders  to  beat  the  dust  out  of  Bruin’s 
pelt,  wherever  he  shows  himself.  My  brother  shall  see 
that  we  also  understand  the  art,”  added  he,  rubbing  his 
hands  with  delight  at  his  new  idea. 

“ A devil  of  a boy!”  muttered  Hard  to  himself; 
“ his  father  was  no  soft  fellow,  but  the  son  goes  ahead 
as  if  he  was  iron-plated.  We  shall  see  ; the  devil  will 
take  him  some  fine  day.” 

It  was  not  long  before  the  bear  was  driven  out  and 
rushed  against  the  net.  The  first  hunter  knocked  him 
down.  Next  to  him  stood  Gosta  Bertelskold.  His 
oak  stick  whistled  through  the  air,  and,  hit  upon  the 
ear,  Bruin  fell  with  a crash  to  the  ground,  never  to  rise 
again. 

“No,”  said  the  king,  annoyed,  “that  will  not  do; 
you  are  too  hard-handed.  Select  a lighter  stick,  and 


* 


THE  BLUE. 


33 


have  a little  sense  when  you  strike.  Would  you  believe 
it,  my  brother,”  continued  he,  turning  to  the  duke,  “that 
boy  lifts  a full-grown  man  at  arm’s  length  over  a fence.” 

The  second  bear  was  surrounded.  He  was  scarce- 
ly out  of  his  lodge  before  a hailstorm  of  cudgel  blows 
so  bewildered  him  that  he  slipped  down  in  the  snow 
and  was  bound  without  any  considerable  opposition. 
The  king  was  not  pleased,  and  the  next  time  had  the 
net  so  arranged  that  the  bear  had  time  to  consider  be- 
fore he  was  taken.  Hard  swore  in  silence,  but  obeyed 
punctiliously. 

This  manoeuver  turned  out  satisfabtorify^'^The  third 
bear  came  out  snarling,  and  at  fir§fc  sought  aplabe  where 
he  might  slip  away  by  fair  meani.  Not  suc£0€ding  in 
this,  and  excited  by  the  dogs,  lie  raised  himself  on  his 
hind  legs,  threw  four  of  the  hunters  to  the  ground, 
wounded  the  duke,  and  was  about  to  break  away  when 
he  was  felled  by  the  united  attack  of  the  king  and 
Arvid  Horn. 

The  hunt  continued  several  days.  They  went  a 
long  distance  from  Kongsor.  They  ate  impeasant  huts 
and  hovels.  They  slept  at  the  parsonages.  , I^ay 
scarcely  dawned  before  the  war  against  the  king  of  the 
woods  was  renewed. 

The  fourth  and  fifth  bears  were  caught  without  ad- 
venture. The  sixth  one  escaped,  was  hunted  all  day  and 
finally  captured  in  a wolf-pit.  The  seventh  put  him- 
self in  an  attitude  of  defense,  killed  a dog  and  hugged 
one  of  the  king’s  grooms  so  energetically  that  the 
fellow  was  carried  off  more  dead  than  alive.  Rushing 
against  the  net,  he  was  finally  brought  down  by  the 
king’s  own  hand.  If  medals  for  bravery  had  been  in 
vogue  in  those  days,  King  Charles  would  have  granted 
one  to  his  valiant  adversary. 

The  number  of  the  captured  reached  thirteen,  and 
they  could  not  discover  the  track  of  another  bear.  The 
order  to  return  had  already  been  given,  when  the  report 
came  from  the  farthest  line  of  hunters,  that  one  bear 
C 


34 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


more  was  surrounded  about  a mile  from  the  king’s 
headquarters.  The  company  immediately  broke  up 
and  betook  themselves  again  to  the  deep  woods.  King 
Charles  was  merry  even  to  foolhardiness.  They  were 
about  to  stretch  the  net  as  usual.  “ Away  with  the  net/’ 
shouted  the  king.  The  hunters  obeyed,  accustomed 
to  see  their  master  lucky  in  the  boldest  adventures. 
With  no  other  weapons  than  their  sticks,  they  formed  a 
complete  chain  around  the  bear’s  den',  and  foremost 
among  them  all  stood  the  king. 

It  was  difficult  to  drive  the  bear  out.  In  vain  the 
dogs  yelped  ; in  vain  were  long  poles  thrust  into  the 
entrance  of  the  den.  The  bear  broke  the  poles 
asunder,  and  the  dogs  that  went  nearest  returned  with 
bloody  noses.  It  was  necessary  to  resort  to  smoke. 
Boughs  of  spruce  and  of  juniper  were  collected  around 
the  hole  and  set  on  fire.  In  a moment  the  bear  was 
heard  snarling  inside  ; finally  his  nose  was  seen  at  the 
opening,  snuffing  after  air. 

King  Charles  had  the  chain  of  hunters  withdraw 
about  thirty  steps.  At  his  side,  in  front  of  the  den,  he 
kept  only  the  duke,  Horn,  Hard,  and  young  Bertelskold. 

With  scorched  pelt  and  roaring  with  rage,  the  bear 
rushed  out.  Seeking  his  enemy,  he  cast  himself  with 
this  beast’s  remarkable  instinct  straight  against  the 
king.  At  the  same  moment  there  hailed  down 'on  his 
head  four  powerful  blows ; the  fifth,  Bertelskold’s, 
glanced  off,  struck  a stone,  and  the  oaken  cudgel  was 
broken. 

“ Out  of  the  way  all!  — one  against  one!”  shouted  the 
king,  lifting  his  weapon  for  a second  stroke.  But  be- 
fore it  fell  the  bear’s  heavy  paw  hit  his  right  arm,  tore 
open  his  coat,  and  knocked  the  cudgel  out  of  his  be- 
numbed hand. 

The  king  with  his  left  hand  snatched  Horn’s  cudgel 
from  him,  but  at  the  same  time  was  thrown  down  ; the 
duke  and  Hard  sprang  forward  and  succeeded  in  draw- 
ing the  bear’s  wrath  against  themselves  ; heavy  fell  their 


THE  BLUE . 


35 


blows,  but  they  were  soon  disarmed  and  their  weapons 
broken.  The  hunters  came  nearer  ; but  before  any  of 
them  had  reached  the  spot,  Gosta  Bertelskold  threw 
himself  weaponless  upon  the  bear  to  wrestle  for  the 
victory  in  good  Swedish  and  Finnish  fashion. 

“One  against  one  !”  he  also  shouted. 

“Well  spoken  !”  the  king  was  heard  to  say,  as  he 
arose,  incapable  of  taking  part  in  the  strife. 

Gosta  had  sprung  for  his  enemy’s  body  as  he  stood 
upon  his  hind-feet,  and  hoped  with  a single  hold  to 
throw  him  down  into  the  snow.  He  had  not  taken  in- 
to the  account  that  he  had  by  that  means  got  the  bear’s 
foaming  mouth  over  his  head  and  one  of  his  heavy  paws 
over  each  shoulder.  His  hold  missed,  steady  as  it  was. 
If  the  bear  had  now  made  use  of  his  teeth,  there  cer- 
tainly would  be  nothing  more  to  tell  of  Gosta  Bertels- 
kold. But,  confused  by  the  smoke  and  the  blows, 
Bruin  forgot  to  make  the  best  of  his  advantage.  His 
arms  alone  with  their  twelve-men’s  strength  pressed 
him  irresistibly  to  the  earth.  Gosta  fell,  but  not  alone  ; 
he  drew  the  bear  with  him  in  his  fall. 

Then  the  king  once  more  came  forward,  scorning 
all  weapons  that  he  might  not  be  outdone,  but  more  ex- 
posed than  any  of  them  because  he  had  only  the  use 
of  his  left  hand.  The  bear  left  his  certain  prey  .... 
he  is  seen  to  totter  towards  the  king — to  lift  his  terri- 
ble paw  ....  a cry  came  from  those  standing  by.  But 
the  lifted  paw  grew  stiff  and  slowly  descended — the 
animal’s  powers  were  exhausted — the  bear  staggered  to 
one  side  like  a drunken  man;  then  the  king  seized  him  by 
the  throat  and  without  difficulty  cast  him  to  the  ground 
....  and  the  heavy  Colossus  fell  without  resistance, 
without  a sound,  as  if  conscious  of  the  right  moment 
when  he  could  fall  with  honor  before  Charles  XII. 

A loud  shout  of  rejoicing  from  the  whole  chain  of 
hunters  accompanied  the  fall  of  the  bear.  The  king 
regarded  the  fallen  beast  almost  with  friendship. 
“ Bind  him,  but  do  not  draw  the  cord  too  tight,”  he 


36 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


said  to  his  equerry.  “ Get  a sled  decorated  with  young 
pines,  and  let  the  music  sound.  There  shall  be  a feast 
whose  like  was  never  seen  at  Kongsor.” 

The  command  was  executed.  Fast  bound,  with 
moss  under  the  ropes  so  that  he  might  not  be  pained 
by  the  bonds,  the  bear  was  borne  in  triumph,  with  music, 
to  the  castle.  The  sun  shone  on  the  gay  procession  ; 
the  eye  was  blinded  by  the  white  snow.  Old  peasant 
women  and  children  ran  out  to  the  highway  to  see  the 
noisy  troop  go  by.  Old  men  and  boys  threw  their  hats 
in  the  air  and  hurrahed  for  the  king.  The  joyful  shout 
of  the  hunters  answered  them.  King  Charles  was  hap- 
py— happier  perhaps  than  at  a later  day  after  his  bloody 
victories.  Now  the  sun  sank  slowly  behind  the  tops  of 
the  pines.  His  last  rays  played  soft  and  clear  over  the 
king’s  high  brow.  With  these  rays  the  joy  of  child- 
hood sent  its  last  farewell  to  the  great  King  Charles,  for 
this  day  the  sun  went  down  upon  his  childhood’s,  his 
youth’s,  his  whole  life’s  peace. 

At  Kongsor  there  was  a royal  festival.  In  the 
court- yard  there  was  hastily  set  up  a guard  of  pine 
trees  in  which  the  living  bears  — as  of  old  the  cap- 
tured kings  in  the  triumphs  of  the  Roman  Emperors — 
were  kept  bound,  and  mingled  their  cries  with  the  joy- 
ous tones  of  the  music.  The  dead  bears  were  made 
ready  by  the  most  skilful  cooks  of  the  court  as  an  en- 
tertainment for  the  guests. 

The  whole  population  of  the  nearest  villages,  men, 
women,  and  children,  assembled  at  the  castle  to  bear 
witness  to  King  Charles’  at  that  time  greatest  vic- 
tory. The  supply  of  brandy  was  sufficient  though 
moderate,  but  the  ale  ran  in  streams.  Holland  tobacco 
was  abundant,  and  there  were  short  pipes  and  long 
twists.  The  old  sat  and  talked  of  the  times  of  the  now 
sainted  king  and  his  peaceful  and  happy  reign,  since 
the  Reduction  had  lost  its  keenest  edge  and  the  great 
famine  had  ceased  to  afflict.  Uncertain  rumors  of  dis- 
tant wars  had  reached  even  the  common  people.  A 


THE  BLUE . 


37 


comet  had  been  seen,  and  in  Dalecarlia  it  had  rained 
blood.  A wise  old  woman  in  the  country  had  dreamed 
that  the  whole  of  the  Swedish  kingdom  was  covered 
with  gold  and  clothed  in  roses.  She  interpreted  this 
according  to  the  rule  of  dreams,  “ by  contraries  so 
there  might  be  expected  great  poverty  and  much 
sorrow.  But  those  who  were  more  resolute  and 
cheerful  agreed  that  such  dreams  should  be  inter- 
preted literally.  The  land  and  the  people  were  accus- 
tomed to  victory,  and  the  uncultured  man,  in  the 
habit  of  admiring  courage  and  physical  strength,  judged 
more  correctly  than  diplomats  the  young  king’s  heroic 
power.  An  attentive  observer  would  have  seen  that 
a presentiment  of  great  victories  went  through  the 
popular  mind  on  the  very  evening  before  the  war. 

The  young  people  danced  in  the  great  hall  between 
the  servants’  rooms  in  the  court  buildings.  The  bugles 
played  ; such  stately  music  had  never  been  danced  at 
Kongsor.  The  king  with  his  suite  came  to  look  upon 
the  dance,  and  was  received  with  a great  shout  of  re- 
joicing. In  order  to  set  off  his  bear  feast,  he  had  dec- 
orated his  hunting  dress  with  some  of  the  ornaments 
of  the  time.  King  Charles  still  wore  the  long  peruke 
which  is  seen  in  his  portrait  as  crown  prince  and  dur- 
ing the  first  years  of  his  reign  ; he  still  wore  the  fine 
white  lace  necktie;  the  expensive  collar  had  disappeared, 
but  not  the  cuffs  which  he  at  a later  period  used  to  snatch 
off  from  his  courtiers’  arms  and  which  in  truth  were 
too  fragile  to  be  suitable  for  the  iron-hard  struggles  of 
his  campaigns.  The  duke,  although  slightly  wounded 
in  the  leg,  was,  like  the  king,  in  the  merriest  mood,  and 
sportively  pointed  out  the  prettiest  peasant  girls. 
Probably  it  was  at  his  suggestion  that  they  had  decor- 
ated the  shaggy  brow  of  the  last  and  bravest  bear 
with  laurel  leaves  from  the  hot-house.  Thereupon  had 
they  laid  the  crowned  bear — bound,  of  course — upon  a 
sled  and  drawn  him  unexpectedly  into  the  hall  and  in 
the  very  midst  of  the  dancers. 


38 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Those  who  knew  nothing  of  the  affair  beforehand, 
started  in  astonishment  in  every  direction  ; the  musi- 
cians forgot  to  play,  everybody  crowded  back  against 
the  walls,  and  left  a spacious  place  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  where  was  seen  the  king,  somewhat  surprised, 
awaiting  what  the  bear  had  to  say  to  him. 

Walborg  Ersdotter  was  the  name  of  the  prettiest 
peasant  girl,  a plump  and  blooming  Westmanland  lass, 
with  right  warm  and  languishing  eyes,  who  would  have 
been  considered  a beauty  at  the  genteel  court  of  King 
August.  She  now  came  forward,  costumed  as  Diana 
as  well  as  could  readily  be  done  with  spruce  twigs  and 
bows  and  arrows,  as  spokesman  for  the  bear.  Quite 
resolutely,  and  without  allowing  herself  to  be  frightened 
by  his  snarling,  the  maiden  took  the  wreath  from  the 
bear’s  head  and  wound  it  about  the  king’s  brow,  while 
she  recited  the  following  verses  of  an  unknown  author: 

“ Since  Northland  soil  its  ranks  of  birch  and  pine  tree  beareth, 
The  scepter  of  the  Forest  king  no  equal  shareth. 

But  from  this  moment  he’s  no  longer  Earl — 

Subdued  he  lays  his  crown  before  King  Carl. 

“ E’en  so  though  vast  the  realm  the  King  inherits, 

Still  greater  that  his  valor  gains,  his  wisdom  merits  ; 

And  while  on  mount  or  valley  birch  and  pine  remain, 

His  name  renowned  shall  high  be  writ  in  Honor’s  fane.” 


The  king,  in  his  good  humor,  accepted  the  homage 
both  graciously  and  gaily,  declaring  that  he  would  not 
take  the  crown  of  honor  from  so  powerful  and  brave 
a ruler  as  the  bear.  To  give  immediate  force  to  these 
words,  he  took  the  wreath  from  his  own  head  and  laid 
it  again  upon  the  bear’s.  Then  he  saw  that  the  bear 
was  still  bound.  “ It  illy  becomes  a conqueror,”  said 
he,  “ to  crown  an  enemy  in  bonds,  as  if  in  the  ignominy 
and  disgrace  of  his  overthrow.  Go,  and  be  free  for  thy 
manhood’s  sake.” 

Before  anyone  could  approach  or  venture  to  make 


THE  BLUE. 


39 


a remonstrance,  the  king  had  taken  out  his  hunting 
knife  and  cut  the  bear’s  bonds.  At  sight  of  this,  great 
and  small  rushed  with  affright  for  the  door.  Only 
King  Charles,  and  some  of  his  men  who  did  not  wish  to 
be  less  daring  than  he,  remained,  with  hands  on  their 
sword-hilts  and  awaited  with  curiosity  what  the  bear 
would  undertake  when  he  realized  his  freedom. 

The  forest’s  shaggy  king  did  not  seem  much  in- 
clined to  make  use  of  his  liberty.  Snuffing,  he  slowly 
lifted  his  head,  stretched  out  his  benumbed  limbs,  and 
seemed  to  consider.  Then  he  raised  himself  with  dif- 
ficulty from  the  sled,  took  a melancholy  survey  of  the 
lights,  made  a few  steps,  tottered  forward,  sighed  deeply 
and  stretched  himself  out  motionless  before  the  king. 
They  looked  at  him  more  closely;  he  was  dead,  and 
his  laurel  wreath,  which  King  Charles  had  so  hand- 
somely returned,  he  had  cast  before  his  conqueror’s 
feet. 

The  king  touched  the  animal  with  his  foot ; it  lay 
there  without  sound,  without  life.  The  event  was  easily 
accounted  for  by  those  who  were  witnesses  of  the 
chase.  But  so  unexpected  an  ending  to  a hazardous 
jest  had  almost  the  appearance  of  a miracle,  and  did 
not  fail  of  its  impression  on  a young  mind.  The  king 
was  silent. 

The  duke,  on  the  other  hand,  exclaimed  cheerfully  : 
“ Upon  my  honor  as  a hunter,  sire,  this  untutored  beast 
has  paid  your  majesty  a compliment  which  the  most  el- 
egant courtier  ought  to  envy  him.  Halloo  ! brave  he- 
roes and  heroines,  who  so  graciously  guard  the  door 
on  the  outside,  come  in,  there  is  no  danger  here ; 
Bruin  has  had  more  sense  than  all  of  you.” 

The  whole  troop  streamed  in,  and  if  the  jubilation 
had  been  noisy  before,  it  now  became  next  to  wild.  The 
mighty  bear  was  borne  away  in  triumph.  With  the 
first  inspiration,  the  crowd  lifted  the  king  upon  their 
shoulders.  Old  men,  boys,  girls,  all  strove  to  assist  in 
bearing  the  young  monarch,  whose  look  was  pow- 


4:0 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


erful  enough  to  cause  the  freed  king  of  the  forest 
to  cast  himself  before  the  feet  of  the  master. 

“Wine  here!”  shouted  the  duke,  while  the  king 
still  sat  on  high,  upon  the  shoulders  of  his  people. 
Wine  came.  The  improvised  Diana  reached  the  beaker 
to  the  king.  He  accepted  it.  At  the  same  time  the 
duke  whispered  so  loud  that  those  standing  nearest 
heard  him:  “Diana,  in  the  deepest  humility,  implores 
your  majesty  to  deign  to  gladden  her  with  a gracious 
kiss.” 

Immediately  many  arms  were  in  readiness,  and 
lifted  the  frightened  girl,  without  heeding  her  opposi- 
tion, to  a level  with  the  king.  “ Kiss  her,”  whispered 
the  duke  softly.  “ The  people  would  construe  your 
majesty’s  refusal  as  contempt.” 

Never  before  or  afterwards  in  his  whole  life  was 
King  Charles  in  so  remarkable  a position.  Seventeen 
years  old,  a beaker  in  one  hand,  a beautiful  girl  at 
the  other  ; round  about  him  jubilation  and  shouts  of  ac- 
clamation. All  the  feelings  of  youth  surged  through  his ' 
soul.  He  blushed  like  a boy,  and  wished  he  was  seven 
leagues  away. 

Then  the  courier’s  bell  was  heard  in  the  court.  But 
the  king,  though  hesitating,  lifted  the  cup  and  drank 
to  his  faithful  peasants.  Then  he  leaned  to  one  side, 
timorous  and  shy,  and  kissed  Walborg  Ersdotter.  An 
immeasurable  shout  of  joy  at  this  moment  arose  from 
the  lips  of  the  surrounding  guests. 

At  the  same  time  the  door  opened,  and  Count  Piper, 
gloomy  and  ominous  of  evil,  stood  among  the  assem- 
bled multitude. 

The  crowd  did  not  notice  him,  but  the  king,  raised 
high  towards  the  roof,  saw  him  at  once.  Withaspring 
he  stood  upon  the  floor,  and  the  wine  from  his  half 
emptied  goblet  sprinkled  those  standing  near,  as  well 
as  the  beautiful  Walborg’s  glowing  cheek. 

“ What  news  ?”  said  he,  curtly  and  hastily,  to  the 


THE  BLUE. 


41 


new  guest,  whose  high  rank  at  once  led  him  to  suspect 
an  important  errand. 

“ Bad  news  !”  answered  the  count,  in  a low  voice. 
“ Will  it  please  your  majesty  to  grant  me  a private  au- 
dience ?” 

“ Bad  news  !”  repeated  the  king,  as  now  opportunely 
freed  from  his  dangerous  position,  he  felt  himself  ex- 
tremely bold  and  joyous.  “No,  my  dear  count,  I pray 
you  spare  your  news  till  a more  convenient  season.  To- 
day we  have  no  time  to  listen  to  it.” 

“ I beg  your  majesty’s  pardon,  but  the  affair  is  of 
moment  and  will  not  admit  of  delay.” 

“Follow  me,  gentlemen  !”  continued  the  king,  with- 
out appearing  to  hear  the  objection.  “ These  good 
people  need  refreshments,  and — Hard,  where  are  you  ? 
Is  not  the  roast  bear  smoking  in  the  dining-room  ?” 

“ The  meal  is  ready,  your  majesty.” 

“Come,  sir  count,”  said  the  duke,  somewhat  satiri- 
cally ; “ I protest  that  you  will  not  run  the  least  risk, 
for  the  bugbear  we  are  now  to  conquer  is  perfumed 
like  a courtier,  fat  as  a capuchin  monk,  appetizing  as  a 
Dalecarlian  girl,  and  as  well  roasted  as  an  honest  sol- 
dier. Allons .” 

Kongsor’s  kitchen  and  dining-room  had  to-day  out- 
done themselves.  The  table  bent  under  its  weight  of 
dishes,  among  which  a bear’s  head  dressed  with  parsley 
and  laurel  leaves  occupied  the  place  of  honor.  French 
and  Spanish  wine  gleamed  in  great  silver  tankards. 
Before  each  guest  stood  a silver  goblet,  large  enough 
to  prove  the  powers  of  him  who  would  pledge  with  it. 
One  might  think  himself  carried  back  to  the  voracious 
times  of  the  regency. 

After  a short  grace,  platters  and  goblets  were  seized 
with  a hunter’s  hunger  and  a hunter’s  thirst.  No  one 
was  allowed  to  be  absent;  the  wounded  hunters  hobbled 
in  ; among  them  was  the  half-squeezed-to-death  Gosta 
Bertelskold. 


2* 


42 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Everyone  must  drink.  When  the  king’s  glance  fell 
upon  the  embarrassed  and  uneasy  Piper,  it  was  only 
to  seize  the  tankard  and  nod  to  him  a res  severas  in 
crastinum!  Never  was  King  Charles  seen  to  drink  so 
much  ; and  yet  he  only  drank  like  a girl.  But  the 
tried  veteran  in  the  art  began  to  hope  that  he  “in  time 
would  learn  manhood.” 

Wine  flowed  and  the  company  became  noisy.  Fierce 
military  exploits,  wild  hunting  stories,  amusing  love 
adventures,  made  up  the  talk.  Gyllenburg,  challenged 
to  improvise,  stood  upon  a table  and  declaimed,  tra- 
vestying, “ King  Carl’s  first  victory:  ” 

“ When  chaste  Diana’s  tempting  lips  to  Mars  were  offered, 
Sly  Bacchus  smiled  ; by  Cupid,  Venus’s  message  proffered- 
Go  quick,  my  son  ” — 

Just  then  the  great  clock  on  the  wall  struck  twelve. 
Piper  arose,  but  the  king  motioned  to  the  poet  to 
continue. 

“ Go  quick,  my  son,  to  Vulcan  be  it  spoken, 

That  Virtue’s  slightly  scratched,  the  coat  of  mail  is  broken.’’ 

One  more  resounding  shout  of  joy — the  last — ac- 
companied the  poet’s  jest.  But  thereupon  King 
Charles  arose  with  sudden  gravity,  turned  to  Piper 
and  said  : “ Sir  Count,  I have  promised  my  friends  a 

pleasant  day.  It  is  ended,  and  I am  prepared  to  hear 
you.  You  see  about  you  men  who  betray  nothing. 
Speak  out  freely  ; what  have  you  to  tell  me  ?” 

“Your  majesty,”  said  Piper  hesitatingly.  “The 
Danes  are  making  progress.  Holstein  is  laid  waste. 
Tonningen  is  about  to  fall.  War  is  inevitable .” 

“ Proceed  !”  said  the  king  with  a hasty  glance  at 
the  duke,  who  reddened  deeply. 

“ The  Czar  Peter  has  brought  together  one  hundred 
thousand  men  against  -Ingermanland.  Reliable  infor- 
mation has  arrived  that  he  has  made  an  alliance  with 


THE  BLUE. 


43 


Poland  and  Denmark  in  order  to  take  from  Sweden  her 
Baltic  provinces.  War  is  inevitable .” 

“ Proceed  !”  said  the  king,  as  he  mechanically  took 
up  a beaker  of  Spanish  wine  standing  near. 

“ The  Saxons  and  the  Poles  have  marched  into  Liv- 
onia. Flemming  has  taken  the  Kobruun  fortification 
by  storm  and  bombarded  Riga.  Count  Dahlberg  asks 
for  reinforcements.  War  is  inevitable .” 

With  these  words  a red  stream,  as  of  blood,  spurted 
over  the  white  table-cloth.  It  was  the  Spanish  wine  in 
the  silver  beaker  which  the  king  had  unconsciously 
pressed  together  in  his  hand.  A dark  cloud  had  spread 
over  his  high  brow.  Oaths  were  broken,  treaties  mocked, 
faith  and  honor  forfeited.  But  King  Charles  only  an- 
swered : 

“You  are  right.  War  is  inevitable .” 

Thereupon  he  turned  to  the  duke,  tall,  haughty, 
grave  as  he  had  never  before  been  seen.  All  trifling 
ordinary  affairs  which  usually  take  possession  of  men’s 
minds  and  soothe  their  passions  had  now  disappeared  ; 
before  his  youthful  eyes  there  spread  out  vast  prospects 
of  a righteous  war,  even  if  it  were  against  a whole 
world.  “It  is  wonderful,”  said  he,  “that  both  my 
cousins  will  have  war.  Then  so  let  it  be.  King  Au- 
gust has  broken  his  word  and  proceeded  contrary  to 
oath  and  treaty.  We  have  a righteous  cause.  God 
will  indeed  help  us.  I will  first  transact  business  with 
one  of  them  ; then  I can  say  a word  or  two  to  the 
other.” 

From  that  day  King  Charles  laid  aside  all  orna- 
ment in  dress,  all  luxuries  of  food,  all  diversion,  every- 
thing except  his  royal  calling. 

From  that  day  war  became  his  noble  chase  and 
whistling  balls  his  music. 

From  that  day  he  drank  neither  ale  nor  wine,  only 
water. 

From  that  day  he  never  kissed  the  lips  of  woman. 

From  that  day  he  became  a hero,  for  whom  the 


44 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


standard  of  common  men  was  not  made ; great  in 
prosperity,  greater  in  adversity,  unique  in  virtues, 
unique  in  faults,  admired  by  many,  understood  by  few, 
and  equalled  by  none. 


CHAPTER  III. 


HOW  THE  LION  BEGINS  TO  HUNT. 


Letter  from  Gustaf  Adolph  Bertelskold,  Ensign  in  the 
Life- Dragoons,  to  his  sister  EM  a Bertelskold,  771  aid 
of  honor  to  Her  Royal  Highness  the  princess  Ulrika 
Eleonora, .* 


Narva,  December  7th,  1700. 


A TRES  CHERE  SCEUR. 


-LVJL  Ever  since  our  meeting  last  spring,  when  we 
amused  ourselves  so  admirably,  and  I at  the  last  was 
somewhat  ill  after  the  scuffle  at  Kongsor,  and  my  sister 
so  lovingly  cured  me  with  salves  and  music,  that  I,  God 
be  praised,  now  live,  since  that  time  have  almost  eight 
months  gone  by,  in  much  confusion;  from  which  I have 
my  excuse  for  most  humbly  begging  you  to  not  to  take 
amiss  my  great  neglect ; because  I am  poor  at  writing 
as  master  Schonberg  can  testify,  for  he  once,  at  Maj- 
niemi,  likened  my  writing  to  a magpie’s  scratching  in 
the  new  fallen  snow. 

I have  duly  received  your  letters  of  May  8th  and 
August  14th,  for  which  I cannot  say  enough  about  how 
they  pleased  me;  and  I beg  you  to  learn  from  these 
crooked  lines,  my  brotherly  gratitude.  I have  now 
more  time  than  I have  had,  although  I lie  here  at  Narva 
in  the  hospital  to  cure  a scratch  received  in  the  charge 

*The  Carolinian  orthography  in  this  letter,  the  Surgeon  has  corrected  with 
the  exception  of  a few  words. 


THE  BLUE . 


45 


against  the  Russians;  it  was  nothing  more  than  a mus- 
ket ball  in  the  left  shoulder,  and  it  is  taken  out  success- 
fully, so  that  now,  after  two  weeks,  I have  permission 
to  write  ; but  not  before  Christmas  will  they  let  me  sit 
on  a horse. 

You,  my  dear  sister,  have  of  course  already  learned 
by  the  great  newspapers  of  our  victories  against  the 
Dane  as  well  as  the  Russian;  yet  I think  it  will  not  be 
unpleasant  to  you  to  hear  something  more  about  it  from 
one  who  was  along  and  applauded  till  his  arms  were 
tired.  You  probably  remember  the  day  last  winter 
when  I threw  Gustaf  Otto  Douglas  down  stairs  for 
slandering  the  Finnish  nobility,  by  saying  that  they 
were  bull-heads  who  were  not  ashamed  to  talk  their 
dirty  Finnish  language  among  themselves  in  the  royal 
castle  itself ; for  all  of  which  Douglas,  when  he  went 
out,  forgot  to  count  the  steps  in  the  stairway.  And 
when  I escaped  arrest  you  remember  that  Eva  Falken- 
berg  told  me  that  I was  courageous  enough  to  attack 
a poor  page  who  was  younger  than  I,  but  what  man- 
hood I had  to  show  the  enemies  of  the  country,  that 
she  would  not  say.  And  you  remember  that  just  then 
your  book  lay  open  on  the  table,  whereupon  I said 
without  counting  the  leaves:  Miss  Eva  shall  know  that 
I will  not  come  back  to  Stockholm  before  I with  God’s 
help  have  a victory  or  at  least  an  honorable  encounter 
to  record  on  every  page  of  sister  Ebba’s  memorandum 
book.  And  to  this  Eva  Falkenberg  answered  : “ I do 
not  believe  it;  you  may  take  pleasure  in  clubbing  bears.” 
Then  I said:  “ What  will  you  promise  me  if  it  happens 
as  I said?”  And  she  replied:  You  can  ask  me  anything 
you  please  and  I will  not  refuse  it.’  “Is  that  true?” 
said  I.  “ Yes,”  said  she  “ as  sure  as  the  cock  on  St. 
Jacobs’  Church  tower;  before  he  crows  I will  not  fail.” 
And  now  I desire  you  to  begin  the  record  and  print  on 
the  first  page  Seland  (or  Tiberup)  and  on  the  second 
page  in  somewhat  larger  letters,  NARVA.  After  that  I 
will  slowly  continue  the  row  until  the  book  is  filled;  be- 


46 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


fore  that  is  done  I dare  not  go  back  to  Stockholm;  per- 
haps it  is  better  that  I do  not  know  how  many  leaves 
there  are. 

I will  tell  you  here  that  on  the  14th  of  April  last 
spring  I went  in  the  king’s  suite  from  Stockholm  to 
Malmo.  We  were  there  about  twelve  thousend  men, 
and  it  was  clear  the  Jutlander’s  hide  was  at  stake.  But 
there  was  some  hindrance  to  the  fleet  which  should  unite 
with  the  English  and  Dutch  fleets,  so  that  we  did  not  get 
into  action  before  the  25th  of  July,*  which  was  Sunday, 
betv/een  five  and  six  o’clock  in  the  afternoon.  I wish 
you  could  have  seen  the  beautiful  sight  we  had  from 
the  fleet  when  the  red  flag  was  hoisted  on  the  mainmast 
of  the  admiral-ship,  Fredrike  Amalia;  but  the  king  was 
on  the  yacht  Sophie.  The  wind  was  not  hard  at  the  time, 
yet  enough  to  make  the  horses  on  the  deck  stamp  im- 
patiently; otherwise  the  weather  was  splendidly  clear 
and  warm.  Zealand  lay  green  before  us,  with  its  beech- 
woods  ; Humleback  manor  and  a light-house,  and  a 
wind-mill  where  the  miller  had  no  time  to  grind.  Many 
boats  pushed  off  from  the  ship,  rowing  towards  land, 
but  the  water  became  too  shallow;  then  Major  Carl 
Numers  with  his  guard  sprang  out  of  the  boat  and 
waded  to  land,  and  his  battalion  with  him.  When  the 
king  saw  this,  he  was  seized  by  such  a sudden  fit  of  im- 
patience that  no  one  could  restrain  him,  but  he  jumped 
into  the  sea  up  to  his  arms  and  motioned  with  his  sword 
to  the  others  to  do  the  same.  They  were  at  once  fol- 
lowed by  Count  Piper;  but  the  most  laughable  was  to 
see  the  French  Ambassador,  Monsieur  Guiscard,  in  his 
elegant  black  silk  stockings  jump  down  into  the  water, 
although  the  king  said:  “Monsieur  has  no  crow  to 
pluck  with  the  Danes!” 

Then  the  Jutlanders  shot  from  the  shore  with  six 
small  cannons,  so  that  the  water  during  the  time  was 
colored  red;  but  400  cavalry  who  lay  concealed  in  the 
edge  of  the  woods  to  hew  down  the  Swedes  had  hardly 


*A11  these  dates  are  in  old  style. 


THE  BLUE. 


47 


ventured  to  advance,  when  our  big  guns  on  the  ships 
hailed  down  about  them  like  peas,  tearing  up  the 
sand  and  stones  like  a tornado.  The  horses  went 
down,  and  there  was  no  help  for  it.  It  did  not  fare  any 
better  with  the  Danish  infantry,  which  consisted  of  300 
peasants  who  had  been  promised  freedom  from  thral- 
dom if  they  would  serve  in  the  field.  The  Jutlander 
was  hunted  to  the  woods  before  dark;  and  when  King 
Charles  had  won  this  brilliant  victory,  he  fell  upon  his 
knees  and  thanked  God.  The  same  evening  our  camp 
was  pitched  on  the  shore. 

We  cavalry-men  were  of  all  this,  merely  spectators; 
— with  what  an  earnest  attention  you  can  well  imagine. 
No  more  could  land  that  day  on  account  of  the  dark- 
ness, and  the  following  Monday  it  blew  very  hard  from 
the  northwest,  so  that  when  a boat  pushed  off  a sea 
immediately  rolled  over  it,  and  thus  some  lost  their  lives. 
The  sea  that  day  was  also  hard  on  the  horses,  and  in 
our  regiment  alone  nearly  half  a score  broke  their  legs; 
but  on  Tuesday  there  was  favorable  weather  and  we 
got  ashore.  In  camp  the  talk  was,  that  perplexity  and 
fright  prevailed  in  Copenhagen,  for  their  king  was 
absent  in  Holstein.  Schack  the  commandant  was  so 
checkmated  by  our  arrival  that  he  did  not  know 
whether  he  stood  on  his  head  or  his  feet.  But  the 
students  and  some  of  the  citizens  went  upon  the  walls 
to  meet  us  in  a manly  way,  and  like  honest  men  to 
defend  their  country;  for  no  one  could  think  otherwise 
than  that  King  Charles  would  invest  the  capital  with 
his  army  and  make  an  entrance  there  quicker  than  his 
sainted  grandfather,  in  his  time,  had  been  able  to  do. 

You  may  think  that  I do  not  deserve  a place  in  the 
book,  for  the  little  exertion  I had  in  beholding  a victory; 
so  I will  mention  that  I was  sent  out  with  my  squadron 
to  clear  the  land  of  the  cavalry-men  who  had  taken  to 
the  woods  to  save  themselves.  In  this  we  had  several 
engagements,  in  which  we  did  so  well  that  we  returned 
with  forty  prisoners.  It  is  certain  that  we  had  more 


48 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


trouble  in  protecting  Zealand  than  we  had  in  taking  it, 
for  some  of  our  men,  especially  among  the  Dutch  and 
English  sailors  who  landed  from  the  fleets,  undertook 
to  plunder  the  grounds  of  the  nobility.  This  we  had 
to  prevent  by  force,  and  not  without  blows  ; for  it  was 
the  king’s  will  that  lord  and  peasant  should  each  retain 
his  own.  When  the  Danish  serf  understood  this,  and 
thought  how  the  stewards  drove  him  to  the  plow  with 
whips,  he  became  very  friendly  to  us.  A peasant  was 
captured  and  brought  a prisoner  to  camp;  the  king  at 
once  turned  him  loose  and  put  a bright  silver  dollar  in 
his  hand,  saying:  “ Go  to  your  work,  my  good  old  man; 
I have  not  come  to  seek  your  ruin,  but  simply  in  good 
neighborly  friendship.”  Whereupon  the  old  Jutland 
father  wept  heartily  and  the  tears  rolled  down  into  his 
beard  as  he  answered  : “ God  bless  your  majesty,  you 
do  us  no  harm;  you  are  indeed  our  pious  Ulrika’s  son!” 

When  King  Fredrik  found  that  the  people  came  in 
crowds  to  our  camp,  so  that  it  was  more  a market  there 
than  at  Copenhagen,  his  intentions  were  changed  and  he 
concluded  peace  at  Travendahl,  promising  to  keep  the 
old  treaty  and  to  pay  King  Charles  two  hundred  and 
sixty  thousand  rix-dollars  for  war  expenses.  Many  of  us 
could  not  cease  to  wonder  when  we  heard  it  as  we  were 
advancing  towards  a public  house  at  Remgsted,  about 
fifteen  miles  from  Copenhagen,  believing  that  an  attack 
was  at  hand.  Some  thought  the  king  acted  like  a boy, 
knowing  how  to  conquer,  but  not  how  to  make  use  of 
his  victory;  the  Jutlander  would  of  course  bite  us  in  the 
heel  as  soon  as  we  turned  our  backs.  That  may  those 
judge  who  are  wiser,  God  reigns  over  us  all.  Only  this  I 
can  assure  my  dear  sister:  all  Europe  has  seen  with  as- 
tonishment that  our  king  is  so  unlike  other  princes  that 
he  desires  naught  but  justice;  right  for  all;  although  he 
has  power  to  impose  the  severest  conditions;  yes,  even 
to  demand  the  whole  of  Norway,  (and  I believe  the 
Jutlanders  with  aching  eyes  would  consent  to  it,)  in- 
stead of  this  the  king  said  to  the  peasants  when  he  went 


THE  BLUE . 


49 


away:  I should  be  sorry  if  any  especial  harm  should 
come  to  you;  what  I have  done  I have  done  against  my 
will,  but  you  can  rest  assured  that  from  this  moment  I 
will  be  your  king’s  sincerest  friend.* 

The  sport  in  Zealand  ended  merrily  in  four  weeks,  to 
the  great  glory  of  the  king  and  the  colors  of  Sweden.  The 
Finns  were  not  present — since  you  told  me  not  to  fail 
to  tell  you  how  they  behaved  when  it  so  happened  that 
the  king  had  them  in  the  fire  with  his  “blue  boys.” 

You  would  hardly  recognize  the  king  now  since  we 
have  taken  the  field.  His  majesty  has  laid  aside  his 
long  peruke  and  combs  his  hair  upwards,  which  makes 
him  look  exceedingly  resolute;  he  wears  a black  necker- 
chief that  you  perhaps  would  not  admire,  and  no 
gambling  or  hard  drinking  is  permitted  in  the  whole 
army.  The  Danish  ladies  have  been  dreadfully  curious 
to  see  his  majesty,  and  when  some  of  the  noblemen 
have  come  to  the  camp  they  have  had  their  wives  with 
them,  but  his  majesty  did  not  take  it  graciously. 

There  was  also  in  the  camp  a Russian  fellow,  Chil- 
koff,  sent  out  by  Czar  Peter  with  great  demonstrations 
of  friendship  and  assurances  that  there  should  be  noth- 
ing but  peace  and  quiet  in  the  East;  at  which  the  king 
was  very  glad.  And  it  seemed  to  him  very  wrong  of 
Monsieur  Guiscard  to  speak  so  often  of  the  three  hun- 
dred iron  cannons  which  his  majesty  had  lately  present- 
ed to  Czar  Peter  to  be  used  against  the  Turks  ; as  if 
these  cannons  might  be  turned  against  his  majesty. 
But  this  his  majesty  would  not  believe  until,  in  Skane, 
he  learned  his  mistake. 

You  may  hereafter  remember  that  after  we  returned 
to  Sweden  the  king  reviewed  his  body-guard  at  Chris- 
tianstad;  they  are  only  one  hundred  and  fifty  men,  but 
every  one  of  them  is  a hero.  The  king  himself  is  their 
captain,  the  lieutenants  are  not  less  than  colonels,  and 

*“  When  I traveled  through  Denmark,”  said  the  Surgeon,  “the  people 
pointed  out  after  a hundred  years  Charles  XII’s  spring  in  Enerum,  and  near 
Rongsted  there  stands  an  old  beach  tree  whose  top  is  called  Charles  XII’s 
crown.” 

d a 


50 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


every  corporal  is  a lieutenant-colonel,  and  the  men 
themselves  are  captains  either  of  cavalry  or  infantry; 
they  have  such  a bearing  and  such  strength  that  no 
better  hand  ever  held  a sword.  My  dear  sister,  pray 
faithfully  for  me  that  I also  may  yet  be  worthy  of  so 
great  an  honor;  then  I should  be  satisfied  if  the  oppor- 
tunity offer  while  I am  young,  to  give  my  life  for  king 
and  fatherland.  I ought  not  to  think  of  that,  but  I 
will  deport  myself  as  if  I would  do  it:  it  may  be  that 
Miss  Eva  will  have  entirely  forgotten  my  insignificent 
self  before  such  a thing  can  come  to  pass. 

In  the  autumn  we  went  to  Carlshamn,  to  go  over  to 
Livonia  and  pull  fingers  with  the  Saxon  king,  since  he 
is  said  to  be  so  uncommonly  strong.  News  came  from 
Narva  that  the  Russians  had  entered  the  country  with 
a great  force  and  were  laying  it  waste;  and  this  occurred 
immediately  after  the  declaration  of  war  was  published 
at  Moscow.  You  may  not  be  any  better  posted  in  poli- 
tics than  I am;  so  we  will  leave  it  to  others  to  consider 
the  alleged  causes  of  the  war,  such  as  that  his  imperial 
majesty’s  ambassador,  when  the  czar  also  was  present, 
three  years  ago,  was  poorly  entertained  by  Count  Dahl- 
berg  at  Riga,  and  was  also  charged  a high  price  for 
poor  quarters,  etc.,  etc.  But  one  thing  I will  not  omit: 
3^ou  surely  remember  the  steward  Casper  Klingen- 
stjerna,  who  was  in  debt  to  God  and  all  the  world;  it  is 
complained  among  other  things  in  the  declaration  of 
war  that  he  owes  the  Russians  and  will  not  pay. 

His  majesty  did  not  say  much  when  he  heard  it,  but 
he  said  to  Admiral  Ankerstjerna:  “ Do  not  steer  to 
Riga,  but  to  Revel.”  We  embarked  the  first  day  of 
October,  and  the  king  and  his  body-guard  with  him 
were  on  the  ship  Westmanland;  I had  the  good  fortune 
to  be  with  them.  It  was  a severe  voyage,  dreadful 
storm  and  waves,  so  that  the  king,  although  he  bit  his 
teeth  together,  was  quite  overcome  by  sea-sickness  and 
had  to  go  into  Pernau  on  the  yacht  Sophie,  whither 
some  of  the  ships  accompanied  him.  But  the  others. 


THE  BLUE. 


51 


after  having  cruised  in  hard  weather  off  Helsingfors, 
came  with  great  difficulty  into  the  harbor  at  Revel. 
There  we  found  that  the  Russians  invested  Narva  with 
a large  force,  but  Henning  Horn  defended  himself  to 
the  uttermost  like  a brave  cavalier.  Autumn  went 
steadily  along,  but  King  Charles  was  not  dilatory.  All  the 
available  troops  were  moved  to  a city  called  Wesenberg, 
and  the  Finnish  troops  from  Abo  and  Helsingfors  were 
taken  over  to  the  same  place.  The  king  reviewed  us 
the  6th  day  of  November,  and  the  whole  army,  cavalry, 
infantry  and  artillery,  was  found  to  be  thirteen  thousand 
men;  that  day  we  received  an  extra  allowance. 

Five  thousand  young  men  were  left  to  guard 
Esthonia,  so  we  were  not  more  than  eight  thousand 
and  perhaps  three  hundred  over,  who  started  out 
against  the  Muscovites.  On  this  account  many  said  to 
the  king:  “ Do  not  be  insane.”  (I  am  not  positive  that 
any  spoke  so  uncivilly,  but  they  did  not  think  other- 
wise), and  Monsieur  Guiscard  was  especially  diligent 
in  dissuading  the  king.  Yet  his  majesty  held  to  his 
design  and  let  nothing  frustrate  his  plans;  answering: 
“If  they  were  twice  as  many  I would  save  Narva, 
for  God  is  with  us  and  we  have  a just  cause.” 

The  13th  of  November  we  began  the  march  upon 
Narva  over  the  worst  roads  I ever  saw.  We  marched 
without  baggage,  in  rain  and  fogs,  and  all  the  country 
about  us  was  desolate,  after  the  enemy’s  advance.  You 
would  certainly  pity  my  horse  Bogatir,  who  you  remem- 
ber was  foaled  at  Majniemi  of  a Polish  breed;  in  five 
days  he  did  not  get  more  than  two  meals  of  oats  and  a 
little  dry  grass;  it  caused  my  Finnish  groom  many  a 
deep  sigh.  But  the  17th,  we  overtook  a Russian  party 
that  Schermetoff  had  sent  out  foraging,  and  seized  so 
many  bundles  of  hay  that  Bogatir  ate  his  fill. 

It  was  still  better  that  Schermetoff  at  once  aban- 
doned Pyhajoki  pass,  and  immediately  afterwards  Sil- 
lamaggo  (Siltamaki),  where  all  expected  a severe  strug- 
gle, and  thus  we  came  on  the  morning  of  the  19th  to 


52 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Laggena  forest  ten  miles  from  here;  but  we  were  very 
tired,  and  chilled  through;  the  infantry  especially  let 
their  weapons  fall  from  weariness,  and  the  horses  hung 
their  ears  just  like  post-horses.  Whereupon  we  were 
compelled  to  rest  almost  in  sight  of  the  enemy;  the 
officers  got  wine  and  the  men  ale  to  warm  themselves 
with,  for  it  was  pretty  cold  and  most  of  them  slept  in 
the  open  air.  I cannot  tell  you  with  what  wonderful 
thoughts  we  passed  that  night;  we  knew  an  attack 
would  be  made  and  that  we  poor  weary  soldiers  in  cold 
and  darkness  had  against  us  eighty  thousand  men  in  a 
fully  equipped  camp  fortified  with  all  art.  But  we  trust- 
ed in  God,  and  our  young  king,  who  shared  with  us 
every  vicissitude,  having  in  his  tent  his  sword  by  his 
side  and  his  Bible  by  his  pillow  ; and  young  Stenbock, 
the  king’s  page,  told  me  that  his  majesty  spread  his  own 
cloak  over  him  that  night  because  it  was  so  cold. 

Now,  my  dear  sister,  I am  too  poor  a writer  to  ade- 
quately describe  that  day,  which  was  the  20th  of 
November,  and  which  no  one  can  soon  forget.  But 
this  I will  not  omit  : That  the  enemy’s  fortified  camp, 
with  one  hundred  and  forty-five  cannons,  extended  in  a 
crescent  on  three  sides  of  the  town,  and  both  points  of 
the  crescent  rested  on  the  banks  of  Narva  river,  and 
the  town  had  the  river  behind  it  on  the  fourth  side. 
The  czar  was  not  there;  he  had  gone  away  that  morn- 
ing, and  left  the  Duke  of  Croy  in  command. 

At  ten  o’clock  the  double  Swedish  gun  was  fired, 
and  we  awaited  in  vain  the  advance  of  the  enemy.  The 
king  rode  about  in  the  sunshine  and  took  a careful  sur- 
vey of  the  situation  ; as  he  halted  his  body-guard  he 
noticed  his  humble  servant  and  nodded  to  me,  saying  : 
“ Gosta,  now  we  shall  hunt  the  bear  out  of  his  den,” 
which  came  to  pass  as  the  king  said. 

At  two  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  we  saw  two  signal 
rockets  from  our  men  rise  up  over  the  woods,  and  im- 
mediately two  were  seen  to  arise  from  the  town  in 
reply.  “ God  with  us  ! ” was  our  watchword,  and  we 


THE  BLUE. 


53 


advanced  briskly,  and  the  enemy’s  pieces  began  to  play 
so  that  the  ground  shook.  Hitherto  we  had  had  clear 
weather,  but  now  the  skies  darkened  and  became  black, 
and  a strong  northerly  wind  blew  through  the  woods, 
and  at  the  same  time  it  began  to  snow  and  the  wind 
drove  the  whole  cloud  of  snow  over  the  Russian  camp 
so  that  the  enemy  were  entirely  blinded  and  could  not 
sight  their  guns  nor  see  our  movements. 

Our  thirty-seven  pieces  soon  began  their  lusty  mu- 
sic in  the  driving  storm.  The  right  wing  under  Gen. 
Wellingk  rushed  forward  in  a race  with  the  storm. 
The  first  to  arrive  was  Lieut.  Rehnskold  with  fifty 
grenadiers  ; after  them  came  the  guard;  then  the 
Westmanlanders,  Helsingers,  and  Abolanders,  under 
Tiesenhausen.  Next  followed  the  cavalry  under 
Wachtmeister  ; the  first  life-dragoons  under  Hamilton; 
the  Nylanders  under  Klingsporre ; Carl  Magnus  Reh- 
binder’s  Finnish  dragoons  and  his  brother  Hans  Hen- 
rik Rehbinder’s  Karelsha  cavalry.  The  victory  was  an 
exceedingly  speedy  one,  for  the  Russian  cavalry,  thrown 
into  confusion,  flew  with  loose  reins  to  the  river:  as  many 
as  could,  rode  across,  but  the  current  there  was  swift 
and  many  drowned.  But  the  Russian  infantry  did  not 
slip  away,  and  darkness  coming  on  at  that  time  nothing 
more  could  be  done  by  us  that  day. 

The  sport  was  more  severe  on  the  left  wing — which 
had  against  it  the  strongest  fortifications  and  was  led 
under  fire  by  Gen.  Majdel  and  Gen.  Magnus  Stenbock. 
Majdel’s  boys  advanced  on  the  right ; first  the  grena- 
diers under  Klessendorf,  Grandel,  and  Roos ; then  a 
battalion  of  Finns  under  Mellin,  another  under  Lode, 
and  a battalion  of  Tavastehus’  regiment  under  Major 
Berg,  who  fell  at  the  head  of  his  battalion  ; next  came 
the  Wermlanders  under  Fock,  then  infantry  from  the 
same  place  under  Feiletz,  then  Finns  again  under 
Sasse.  At  the  same  time  the  Dalcarlians  under  Sten- 
bock and  the  Abo  infantry  under  Hastfer  advanced ; 
nothing  could  restrain  the  king,  but  he,  with  Rehns- 


54 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


kold  and  the  body-guard,  with  a part  of  the  life-dra- 
goons under  B.  Rehbinder,  a noble  troop  of  horse 
under  Liewen,  and  a part  of  the  Abo  cavalry,  burst 
forth  against  Wepsekyla,  who  was  in  a position  com- 
manding both  lines.  I can  assure  you,  as  I was  there, 
that  it  was  no  joke,  but  under  a violent  fire  we  moved 
upon  the  entrenchments  and  beat  our  way  with  pikes 
and  swords.  In  a short  time  we  had  thrown  them  all 
topsy-turvy,  after  which  the  enemy,  who,  in  the  confu- 
sion and  the  storm,  had  so  mixed  themselves  up  that 
not  a single  regiment  could  obey  orders  or  use  their 
swords,  ran  at  full  speed  down  to  the  bridge  and 
crowded  on  it  so  excessively  that  the  bridge  broke 
under  them  and  they  perished  miserably  in  the  river,  by 
thousands. 

But  the  worst  work  yet  remained.  With  the  river 
before  them,  and  defeat  behind  them,  the  Muscovites 
made  a stand  behind  their  baggage  and  defended  them- 
selves with  the  courage  of  desperation.  They  were  still 
four  to  one  ; they  could  not  yield,  they  would  not  die. 
The  king  sent  the  right  wing  to  the  assistance  of  the 
left,  but  the  autumn  darkness  fell  over  us  and  there 
was  severe  shooting  between  the  Dalecarlians  and  the 
guard  who  did  not  recognize  each  other  in  the  darkness. 
Nevertheless  it  turned  out  to  our  advantage,  for  it  made 
the  Russians  mistrust  their  German  command  and  talk 
of  treachery,  so  thatCroy  and  the  other  gentlemen  were 
compelled  to  surrender  to  us  for  their  own  safety.  After 
that  bait  the  mass  of  the  enemy  surrendered,  some  in 
the  night  and  some  the  next  day  ; and  they  were  treated 
in  a friendly  manner,  the  poor  starved  men  receiving 
food,  and  the  wounded  having  their  wounds  dressed  ac- 
cording to  their  condition.  But  since  they  were  so 
many,  we  could  not  keep  them,  but  they  were  compelled 
to  lay  down  their  arms  and  walk  past  the  king  bare- 
headed, with  staves  in  their  hands  ; then  they  were  al- 
lowed to  go  home  again.  In  this  way  we  released  more 


THE  BLUE. 


55 


than  twenty  thousand  men  ; but  Croy  and  the  other 
leaders  we  kept  as  prisoners,  treating  them  with  all 
respect.  Croy  is  said  to  have  received  from  the  king 
one  thousand  ducats,  as  he  had  nothing  left  but  the 
clothes  he  had  on. 

You  will  undoubtedly  hear  from  others  a better  de- 
scription of  this  great  day  of  victory  ; I will  only  say 
that  of  the  enemy,  eighteen  thousand  fell  or  were 
drowned  ; of  our  men,  the  dead  and  wounded  num- 
bered about  two  thousand.  And  we  captured  their 
whole  camp,  and  relieved  the  city,  which  we  entered 
on  the  third  day  amid  the  beating  of  drums  and  the 
ringing  of  bells. 

Although  every  one  of  our  men  fought  as  though 
he  had  no  more  respect  for  his  life  than  for  a rotten 
thong,  the  king  was  without  an  equal.  Wherever  the 
sport  was  most  vigorous,  was  his  majesty  certain  to  be 
found  ; he  got  a ball  in  his  neckcloth,  and  lost  his  sword 
and  one  of  his  boots  in  a bog  ; we  drew  him  out  with 
difficulty,  and  he  won  his  great  victory  in  his  stockings. 
If  you  wish  to  know  about  the  Finns,  I will  say 
in  truth  : first,  that  all  the  cavalry,  excepting  the  life- 
dragoons,  were  Nakota  Finns,  and  besides  a third  part 
of  the  infantry,  so  that  fully  one  half  of  the  whole  force 
at  Narva  was  Finns ; they  have,  like  all  Swedes, 
honestly  paid  for  the  day’s  honor  with  their  hearts’  red 
blood. 

Concerning  your  humble  servant,  I will  not  weary 
you  longer  than  to  say  that  I hewed  in  with  the  rest  and 
that  Bogatir  got  off  with  a scratch  on  the  neck.  In  the 
last  encounter  near  the  river  bank,  on  the  left  wing,  I 
felt  a little  prick  in  the  shoulder,  but  did  not  notice  that 
it  was  a ball,  until  I rode  a little  way  and  fainted  quite 
unexpectedly  from  loss  of  blood.  After  I had  lain 
there  three  or  four  hours  in  the  bloody  snow  by  the  side 
of  many  dead,  I was  taken  up  and  carried  to  the  sur- 
geon ; but  he  had  no  time  to  attend  to  me  before  the 


56 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


next  day  in  the  afternoon.  It  was  not  ended  without  a 
grimace,  but  it  is  nothing  to  speak  of;  joy  made  me  well 
again. 

You  can  never  imagine  what  a heart-felt  pleasure  it 
is  to  fight  and  conquer  under  the  great  King  Charles. 
There,  no  one  cares  for  wounds  or  death,  but  only  the 
high  honor  of  bleeding  by  such  a hero’s  side.  You  will 
hardly  believe  me,  when  I say  that  the  common  soldier 
thinks  he  shares  the  king’s  greatness,  and  is  at  the  mo- 
ment more  than  a nobleman.  It  is  fortunate  that  you 
cannot  now  see  our  king — you  would  be  smitten  with 
love,  and  he  would  not  understand  it.  Give  my  best 
love  to  our  gracious  mother,  and  send  her  this  letter. 
Do  not  forget  the  memorandum  book  and  your  sincere 
and  faithful  brother,  G.  A.  B. 

P.  S. — I dare  not  send  regards  to  Miss  Eva.  This 
crooked  letter  has  cost  me  eight  days’  work.  Adieu , 
mon  cceur. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AURORA  KONIGSMARK. 

A COLD  winter  evening  in  January,  1702,  two  young 
officers  sat  in  their  tent  near  the  castle  of  Wtirgen, 
in  Courland,  in  the  vicinity  of  which  King  Charles 
had  his  headquarters.  They  had,  in  accordance  with 
the  king’s  suggestion,  covered  the  roof  with  straw,  and 
had  done  their  best  to  keep  it  warm  with  glowing 
cannon-balls.  But  their  efforts  were  altogether  too 
feeble  to  contend  with  the  severe  January  cold.  By 
the  glimmer  of  the  single  miserable  tallow  candle  which 
lighted  the  tent,  one  could  see  the  young  warriors’ 
breath  like  smoke  fading  away  in  the  frosty  winter 
atmosphere. 


THE  BLUE . 


57 


Count  Charles  Lindskold,  a captain  of  the  guards, 
drew  the  straw  on  the  ground  closer  under  his  camp- 
stool,  seized  a glass  that  stood  on  the  table  near  him, 
and  emptied  its  rich  Rhenish  contents,  which  he  had 
secretly  brought  with  him  under  his  cloak.  Thus  armed 
against  the  cold,  he  continued  the  confidential  conver- 
sation with  his  friend,  his  equal  in  age,  Count  Gustaf 
Adolf  Bertelskold,  now  lieutenant  in  the  life-dragoons. 

“ What  the  devil  were  you  doing  at  Triski  ? I heard 
the  discreet  Stenbock,  forgetting  his  usual  caution,  say 
to  Piper  : ‘ But,  sir  count,  it  is  war  no  longer,  it  is 

boy’s  play.’” 

“ Stenbock  may  be  a wise  man,  but  what  he  does 
not  understand  is  King  Charles.  Should  we  patiently 
endure  seeing  Oginski  wander  about  our  camp  every 
day  like  a goat  ? Now  in  our  flank,  now  in  our  rear, 
never  where  he  was  looked  for,  always  where  he  was 
not  expected,  doing  us  more  harm — the  devilish  fellow 
— with  his  three  to  five  hundred  horsemen,  than  all  the 
rest  of  the  Polish  and  Saxon  army  taken  together. 
‘The  devil  will  take  him,’  said  the  king  one  day  ; — no, 
he  did  not  swear  ; you  know,  Lindskold,  it  is  all  fool- 
ishness to  swear,  it  has  no  blessing  with  it,  and  the  king 
never  swears.  Well,  now,  we  marched  out  in  the  be- 
ginning of  December  and  assembled  at  Schanen ; not 
a soul  knew  what  was  to  be  done.  We  were  eleven 
hundred  mounted  men  of  Hummerhjelm  and  Meyerfelt, 
and  we  expected  in  addition  four  hundred  infantry  to 
come  after  us  on  sleds ; if  we  had  only  had  Ogin- 
ski to  deal  with,  a squadron  or  two  would  have  been 
enough;  but  the  Courlanders  are  the  devil’s  own.  Is  it 
not  devilish  that  I continually  swear?  You  taught  me 
that,  Lindskold  ; it  is  your  fault ; but  I must  break  my- 
self of  it.” 

Lindskold  laughed.  “ Take  care  lest  some  fine  day 
you  see  his  satanic  majesty  in  petticoats,”  said  he. 
“ You  read  your  Bible,  I suppose,  like  the  others  ? ” 
“Yes,  of  course.  Seriously,  I do  so  nearly  every 


58 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


day,  and  you  ought  to  do  it,  too.  The  king  reads  eveiy 
morning  a chapter  or  two  of  the  Bible.” 

“ It  is  understood,  since  the  king  does  it,  we  must 
all  do  it.  Well,  to  proceed  ; let  the  devil  be  at  peace, 
and  tell  me  how  it  went  at  Triski.” 

“ Everywhere  we  went,  Oginski  had  just  been  there. 
We  ran  aftei  him  as  a child  runs  after  a rainbow.  In 
that  way  we  came  to  Samogitien,  and  the  infantry  could 
no  longer  follow  us.  One  evening  in  the  twilight  we 
saw  before  us  a castle  and  a few  miserable  cabins,  which 
were  honored  with  the  name  of  a town.  This  was 
Triski.  The  castle  and  the  town  belonged  to  Oginski, 
and  consequently  must  be  captured.  A little  river 
flowed  by,  and  the  bridge  was  destroyed  ; but  we  had 
no  time  to  wait.  Therefore — horses  and  men  into  the 
water — usch  ! — it  was  like  being  plunged  through  a hole 
in  the  ice.  But  we  got  over  successfully,  wet  through 
up  to  the  neck,  and  frozen  till  our  teeth  chattered.  All 
the  inhabitants  had  run  away  from  the  town  ; only  the 
priest  and  the  sexton  were  discovered  on  a hay-mow. 
However,  it  was  good  to  have  a fire  and  a bit  to  eat ; 
the  king  took  up  his  quarters  in  the  castle,  the  rest  of 
us  in  the  town,  and  all  fared  like  princes.  Just  as  we 
had  become  partially  dried,  and  had  stretched  ourselves 
out  comfortably  on  the  straw  and  were  about  to  go  to 
sleep,  those  devilish  Poles  were  upon  us  like  Jehu — 
there,  I swore  again  ! We  were  wakened  by  cries  and 
alarms  ; the  town  was  on  fire  ; it  was  eleven  o’clock  in 
the  evening.  Naked  or  half-clad,  some  in  white  linen, 
having  hung  up  their  clothes  to  dry, — we  hastily  got 
up  ‘ What  is  the  matter  ? ’ ‘ Oginski  is  here.’  ‘Where?’ 
No  one  knew.  Sach  and  Flemming  were  the  first  to 
meet,  and  they  slashed  away  like  madmen.  It  was  so 
dark  that  no  one  could  see  his  hand  before  his  face.  In 
a moment  we  heard  the  king  shout : ‘ Hew  away,  boys  !’ 
And  we  did  so  without  knowing  where  the  blows  fell. 
Then  we  noticed  that  it  grew  thinner  around  us  ; Ogin- 


THE  BLUE, 


59 


ski  had  turned  about ; before  we  were  fairly  awake,  he 
had  slipped  away  from  us.” 

“Or  we  from  him.  No  sentries  out  ; admit  now  that 
this  was  boy’s  play ! ” 

“He  got  away,  that  is  the  vexatious  part  of  it.  We 
pursued  him  towards  Kovno,  and  rode  in  sight  of  the 
enemy  over  Niemen,  letting  the  horses  swim  by  the  side 
of  the  flat-boats.  Oginski  fled,  we  garrisoned  Kovno. 
From  there  we  rode  through  forests  and  waste  country 
back  to  the  army.  ‘ Take  more  men,  your  majesty;  the 
country  swarms  with  enemies,’  said  Hummerhjelm. 

“ ‘ More  men  ! ’ said  the  king,  pointing  at  the  few  of 
us  who  accompanied  him;  ‘ do  you  not  see,  Colonel,  that 
I am  the  tenth  ? ’ 

“ In  fact  we  were  barely  ten.  It  was  a hard  ride. 
More  than  once  a shot  was  discharged  through  the 
bushes.  Poles  and  Courlanders  swarmed  about  us  like 
gnats.  But  every  one  took  us  for  the  advance  guard  of 
a large  body  of  troops  and  let  us  pass.  For  five  days 
— night  and  day — we  rode,  fought,  froze  and  starved. 
On  the  sixth  day  we  heard  the  Swedish  watch-cry  and 
recognized  the  smoke  of  roast  mutton.  I assure  you, 
Lindskold,  we  ate  a buck  apiece.” 

“ The  whole  camp  was  in  a state  of  anxiety.  They 
thought  the  king  was  lost  and  sent  Arvid  Horn  with  the 
life-guards  to  seek  him.  Do  you  intend  to  let  your  sis- 
ter write  ' Triski  ’ in  her  memorandum-book  ? ” 

“ Think  you  it  merits  it  ? Tiberup,  Narva  and  Diina 
stand  there  already  ; Triski  is  a mere  trifle,” 

“ I will  tell  you  of  an  opportunity  to  do  something 
better.  Have  you  ever  seen  a witch  ? ” 

“A  witch  ? oh  yes.  I remember  that  I saw  one  in 
Abo  several  years  ago.  The  people  really  had  no  other 
testimony  against  her  than  that  she  looked  wicked  and 
was  blear-eyed.” 

“ Dear  Gosta,  what  a child  you  are.  The  worst 
witches  do  not  look  like  that.  Imagine  a tall,  stately 


60 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


female  figure,  beautiful  as  the  spring  sun  in  a dark 
cloud,  flashing  eyes,  voluptuous  figure,  seductive  grace, 

costume  of  a queen,  bearing  of  an  empress 

In  a word,  we  spoke  just  now  of  satan  in  petticoats — 
since  one  must  not  say  the  devil  before  your  delicate 
ears.  Will  you  see  the  original  ? Believe  me,  it  would 
be  a victory  for  your  sister  Ebba’s  book  more  worthy 
to  be  presented  to  Eva  Falkenberg  than  Tiberup,  Narva 
and  Dima.” 

“ Listen,  Carl ; I believe  you  have  looked  too  deep 
into  the  bottle.  True  ; — not  a drop  left  ! ” 

“ This  is  the  result  of  theological  studies  during 
army  life.  The  poor  boy  always  pictures  the  devil  with 
a pair  of  knotty  horns  and  one  foot  of  a horse  or  a goat, 
according  to  taste.  But  we  free-thinkers,  who  have  con- 
sidered the  question  among  ourselves  and  in  society, 
do  not  think  the  devil  so  stupid.  We  know  right  well 
that  he  can  be  amiable  at  times,  when  he  will — he,  or 
rather  she,  for  now  we  are  talking  of  a witch.” 

“ What  witch  ? ” 

“ The  Countess  Konigsmark.” 

“ I have  not  the  honor  of  an  acquaintance  with  that 
worthy  personage.” 

“ Have  you  not  seen  every  afternoon  for  two  or  three 
weeks  a carriage  drive  out  from  the  castle,  take  the  road 
to  the  king’s  tent,  and  then  after  a long  circuit  drive 
back  to  the  castle  again  ? In  the  carriage  sits  a lady 
dazzlingly  beautiful  ! ” 

“Yes — I will  call  it  to  mind.” 

“ You  will  call  it  to  mind  ? Look  me  straight  in  the 
eyes,  Gosta  ! Yes,  by  Cupid’s  darts,  I really  believe 
the  boy  has  never  seen  the  Countess  Konigsmark. 
And  yet  the  whole  camp  is  talking  of  her.  They  say 
that  she  is  sent  here  by  King  August,  and  that  she  has 
made  use  of  every  means  to  obtain  an  audience  with 
our  king.  But  you  remember  howWalborg  Ersdotter’s 
kiss  pained  his  lips  like  glowing  coals.  King  Charles 
is  too  wise  for  the  siren.  Apropos , Bertelskold,  I have 


THE  BLUE . 


61 


a proposition  to  make  you.  Station  yourself  for  seven 
days  by  the  road  where  the  carriage  passes,  and  look 
closely  at  the  countess  who  sits  therein.  If  you,  after 
seven  days,  have  left  in  your  heart  a single  corner  for  the 
haughty  brunette,  Eva  Falkenberg,  then  you  may  write 
with  good  conscience  to  your  sister  : Mon  coeur , I have 
won  more  than  Narva  ; I have  seen  Aurora  Konigs- 
mark,  and  have  not  been  conquered  ! ” 

“ You  talk  nonsense  ! ” 

“ Depend  upon  it.  Adieu,  my  boy.  You  have  it  so 
deuced  cold  in  your  tent,  and  the  wine  is  all  gone.  The 
watchword  to-night  is  ‘Kongsor.’  I wish  we  were 
there  ! ” 

With  these  words  the  jolly  captain  took  his 
departure,  humming  a song,  perhaps  intending  to  look 
up  other  comrades  who  had  more  to  offer.  Gosta  Ber- 
telskold  threw  himself  on  his  bed  and  tried  to  while 
away  the  evening  thinking  of  his  friends  away  in  the 
North.  Now  he  called  to  mind  his  mother,  the  noble 
and  haughty  countess  ; now  his  brother  Torsten,  who 
still  breathed  the  air  of  the  court  of  France  ; now  his 
beloved  sister  Ebba,  in  the  first  beauty  of  her  youth  ; 
now  a dark-eyed  Eva  who  had  perhaps  already  forgot- 
ten her  wandering  knight ; now  it  was  Stockholm’s 
palaces  ; now  Kongsdr’s  hunting  music  ; now  childhood 
memories  of  Majniemi,  which  had  left  both  with  Gosta 
and  his  sister  an  imperishable  love  for  Finland.  All 
these  images  wove  themselves  together  in  the  young 
warrior’s  thoughts,  and  with  them  mingled  his  dreams 
of  ambition  and  his  bold  plans  for  future  victories. 
Gosta  Bertelskold  had  already  been  in  the  school  of 
Charles  XII  ; he  saw  nothing  impossible  to  a good  con- 
science, a strong  arm  and  undaunted  courage  ; but  in 
everything  outside  of  this,  and  especially  in  everything 
that  belonged  to  the  free  gallantry  of  the  times,  he  was 
still,  as  his  friend  remarked,  a perfect  child. 

And  yet,  was  it  so  very  strange,  that  under  all  these 
circumstances  the  beautiful  countess’s  image  more  than 


62 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


once  returned  to  the  mind  of  this  youth  of  nineteen  ? 
His  curiosity  was  awakened;  he  sought  to  recall  the  lady 
in  the  carriage  ; he  imagined  that  she  was  really  un- 
commonly beautiful  ; and  what  a contrast  was  such  a 
vision  to  the  uniformity  of  camp  life  ! The  more  Gosta 
thought  of  it  the  more  curious  he  became  to  see  again 
a woman  of  whom  for  ten  years  all  Europe  had  spoken 
as  a miracle  of  genius  and  beauty. 

The  impatient  youth  left  the  tent.  It  was  already 
eight  o’clock  in  the  evening  ; a clear,  starry  sky  looked 
down  over  the  snowy  district  where  the  tents  stood  in 
rows  like  drifts.  Scarcely  three  hundred  yards  away 
were  seen  the  lights  of  the  castle.  Gosta  knew  that 
Stenbock  occupied  one  wing,  and  that  the  main  build- 
ing was  allotted  to  the  court  martial.  But  he  guessed 
also  that  a smaller  wing  was  assigned  for  the  present  to 
the  Countess  Konigsmark.  In  that  very  wing  gleamed 
a wonderfully  clear  light. 

Who  has  not  at  some  time  experienced  the  peculiar 
sensation  with  which  of  a winter  evening  one  beholds 
such  a light,  when  the  imagination  connects  it  with  an 
object  which  for  the  moment  has  an  especial  interest  ? 
Gosta  Bertelskold  looked  at  the  light,  he  looked  away, 
and  then  looked  at  it  again.  Almost  unconsciously  he 
found  himself  at  the  castle  gate,  and  was  awakened  out 
of  his  dream  by  the  sentry’s  challenge. 

He  blushed  before  the  man  ; it  would  be  ludicrous  to 
turn  back.  “I  might  call  on  young  Stenbock,”  he  said 
to  himself,  careful  to  quiet  his  conscience.  “ Kongsor  ! ” 
answered  our  lieutenant,  and  was  soon  in  the  castle 
court. 

Gosta  had  not  visited  the  castle  before.  He  was 
entirely  unacquainted  with  its  interior.  Finding  no  one 
in  the  court,  he  went  at  random  up  the  steps  which  in 
the  darkness  he  conjectured  were  the  right  ones.  The 
steps  led  to  a long  and  dark  corridor.  “ I must  finally 
meet  some  one  who  can  show  me  to  Stenbock’s  room,” 


THE  BLUE . 


63 


thought  the  young  man,  as  he  groped  his  way  upwards, 
feeling  with  his  hand  along  the  wall. 

He  was  suddenly  grasped  by  the  arm.  “Is  it 
you  ?”  said  an  unknown  voice. 

Bertelskold’s  hand  went  to  his  sword-hilt.  But  im- 
mediately regaining  his  presence  of  mind  he  answered 
in  the  same  tone  : “Yes  it  is  I.” 

Again  was  he  ready  in  silencing  his  conscience. 
“ How  can  so  stupid  a question  get  any  other  an- 
swer ? ” he  thought  to  himself. 

“Follow  me,”  said  the  unknown.  “You  can  take 
hold  of  my  sash  and  then  you  will  not  have  to  grope 
along  the  walls.  It  is  on  your  account  that  I was 
ordered  to  put  out  all  the  lights  in  the  stairways.” 

“ Just  so,  on  my  account ! ” thought  Bertelskold. 

“You  are  punctual  to  the  second,”  continued  the 
guide.  “ But  how  did  you  learn  the  watchword  to- 
night ? ” 

“ H — m ! ” answered  the  lieutenant  within  his  dawn- 
ing mustache.  Whom  was  he  taken  for  ? 

“ I understand  ....  a little  gold.  It  is  not  worth 
while  for  the  Swedes  to  boast  of  their  honesty.  But 
you  did  not  meet  any  one  in  the  court-yard  ? I think 
you  would  not  come  out  more  than  even  if  Stenbock 
had  a scent  of  your  presence  here.” 

“ H — m ! ” answered  the  young  warrior  again.  To 
himself  he  thought : “ It  looks  like  an  agreeable  adven- 

ture. Monsieur,  I had  a good  mind  to  write  ‘ Swedish 
honesty  ’ on  your  back.  But,  patience ! let  us  see 
what  it  comes  to.” 

“Now  we  are  here,”  said  the  guide,  after  they  had 
gone  through  several  passages  as  dark  as  the  first. 
“ Step  in  here  and  wait  till  I announce  you.” 

Gosta  Bertelskold  stood  alone  in  the  dark  room 
about  five  minutes.  All  kinds  of  strange  thoughts 
crossed  each  other  in  his  young  brain.  What  was 
wanted  ? What  expected  ? What  feared  ? Ought  he 


64 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


to  stay  ? Ought  he  to  fly  ? No  one  answered.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  heard  in  the  distance  the  tones 
of  a guitar  ; immediately  afterwards  all  was  silent, 
dark  and  mysterious. 

Then  the  double  doors  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
room  were  thrown  open  and  to  the  young  man’s  aston- 
ished eyes  was  presented  a tableau  vivant , so  dazzlingly 
beautiful,  and  withal  so  artistically  planned,  that  the 
most  skillful  painter  could  not  have  arranged  a more 
ingenious  effect  of  light  and  shadow,  of  color  and 
grouping. 

It  seemed  to  Gosta  that  the  curtain  at  a theatre  had 
been  rolled  up  before  him.  Between  him  and  the 
stage  it  was  dark  ; but  the  stage  was  lighted  up  and 
captivated  the  sight.  In  this  illumination  by  unseen 
lamps,  far  away  in  the  distance,  sat  a female  figure, 
a fairy ; or,  more  correctly  speaking  perhaps,  one  of 
those  Olympian  goddesses  of  which  the  poetic  imagery 
of  that  time  had  such  an  inexhaustible  abundance. 

She  was  stately  and  tall  as  Juno,  and  at  the  same 
time  as  beautiful  and  languishing  as  the  poets  love  to 
paint  Aphrodite.  Diana’s  moon  would  not  have 
shamed  to  light  her  royal  brow  ; Minerva’s  wit  and 
genius  played  upon  her  fine  full  lips  and  beneath  her 
raven  lashes.  If  Gosta  Bertelskold  had  had  in  his  day 
a Tegner  to  admire,  he  would  at  once  have  called  to 
mind  how 

“ Gold-haired,  full-bosomed,  slender, 

Came  Aurora,  fair  as  day  ; ” 

but  he  would  immediately  have  corrected  the  poet  in 
one  thing : this  golden  hair  was  as  black  as  a southern 
night,  and  floated  like  a setting  of  shadows  around  the 
brilliant  whiteness  of  her  brow  and  cheeks.  All  the 
delicate  details  of  this  picturesque  face  the  amazed 
youth  could  not  distinguish  at  once  and  at  a distance. 
He  did  not  see  the  arching  of  those  eyebrows  which 
the  poets  of  that  time  likened  to  the  skies  of  night  over 


THE  BLUE. 


65 


the  rising  sun.  He  did  not  see  the  roundness  of  that 
mouth,  by  the  poets  likened  now  to  a rose  of  Helicon, 
now  to  Aganippe’s  spring,  and  which  was  so  small  and 
cherry-like  that  it  would  not  have  been  approved  by 
the  taste  of  the  present  time,  but  for  that  time  was, 
and  for  several  succeeding  generations  continued  to 
be,  a pattern  and  a charm.  He  did  not  see  the  Graces, 
which,  if  one  may  believe  the  same  poetic  descriptions, 
continually  sported  in  wanton  flocks  about  the  roses  of 
her  lips.  He  saw  not  either,  fortunately  for  him 
perhaps  the  almost  impreceptible  softness  in  the  lower 
eyelids  and  that  peculiar,  tender,  mischievous  expres- 
sion of  the  upper  lip’s  vanishing  line,  which  indicates 
that  woman’s  mouth  was  created  for  other  kisses  than 
those  of  heavenly  love. 

The  Countess  Aurora  Konigsmark  understood  ad- 
mirably how  to  arrange  scenic  effects,  so  that  to  the 
spectator  they  might  seem  to  be  entirely  natural  and 
accidental.  She  simply  sat  by  the  writing-table  in  her 
cabinet,  somewhat  carelessly  leaning  forward  while  she 
wrote  a letter  by  the  rosy-colored  light  of  two  alabaster 
lamps  which  spread  a mild  perfume  through  the  room, 
which  was  small,  but  decorated  with  exquisite  taste. 
Her  toilet  was  simple,  as  it  must  be  in  Charles  XII’s 
camp,  but  as  choice  as  the  closest  calculation  ventured 
to  indulge.  It  is  a pity  that  Charles  XII’s  biographer, 
the  learned  and  diffuse  Nordberg,  in  his  three  great 
folios  did  not  consider  it  worth  while  to  devote  more 
than  a few  lines  to  the  beautiful  countess’s  visit,  and 
not  a single  little  word  to  her  toilet.  This  much  is 
certain  : that  the  single  solitaire  upon  her  temple  did 
not  outshine  the  pair  that  nature  had  created  beneath 
it,  and  that  the  black  velvet  robe,  calculated  to  enhance 
the  whiteness  of  her  neck,  was  not  softer  than  the  ebon 
locks  which  the  countess  never  entirely,  but  only 
according  to  her  own  taste,  deigned  to  wear  under  the 
tyranny  of  fashion. 

Bertelskold  took  several  steps  forward,  but  stood 
E 3* 


66 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


still  again.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  felt  afraid, 
for  it  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  failed  to  act  in  an 
open  and  knightly  manner. 

Although  there  were  two  dark  rooms  between,  the 
countess  heard  the  tramp  of  the  heavy  Carolinian  boots, 
slowly  lifted  her  head  and  said  : “ Is  that  you  leiber 

Tornflycht  ? Come  in,  my  page  ! ” 

“Lieutenant  Tornflycht,  count  Piper’s  brother-in-law 
— her  page  ! It  was  for  him  they  took  me  ! ” thought 
Bertelskold,  plucked  up  his  courage  and  again  took  a 
few  steps  forward  and  thus  came  within  the  light  of 
the  lamp.  At  the  same  instant  the  countess’s  Polish 
chamberlain  came  towards  him  from  an  outer  room, 
grasped  him  roughly  by  the  arm  and  said  with  the 
same  voice  in  which  he  had  whispered  before  in  the 
stairway:  “You  are  not  the  right  one!  Who  the 
devil  are  you,  sir,  and  how  have  you  ventured  to 
intrude  here  ? ” 

Bertelskold  slowly  withdrew  his  arm,  and  whis- 
pered, without  paying  any  attention  to  the  man’s 
question  : 

“ Who  is  that  lady  ? ” 

Useless  question  ! He  already  had  the  answer  in 
his  own  mind. 

The  chamberlain  misconstrued  the  young  warrior’s 
meekness,  and  became  bold  enough  to  take  him  by  the 
collar  with  a gesture  that  indicated  that  he  would  show 
him  the  door.  “You  braggart,  you  night-prowler!” 
said  he,  “ dare  you  defy  her  serene  hignness  in  her 
most  private  apartment?  You  scoundrel!  you  Mr. 
Nobody  ! I will  teach  you  a lesson — ” 

The  presence  of  a Konigsmark  was  sufficient  to 
keep  him  quiet  during  the  first  half  of  this  address. 
The  second  half  was  evidently  one-half  too  much. 
Without  answering,  Bertelskold  grasped  the  chamber- 
lain,  lifted  him  from  the  floor,  and,  holding  him  at  arm’s 
length,  bore  him  to  the  door  and  cast  him,  not  very 
gently,  out  into  the  dark  corridor.  The  poor  fellow 


THE  BLUE. 


67 


was  so  overcome  with  astonishment  that  he  did  not 
utter  a sound,  but  fell  like  a clod  to  the  floor. 

Disturbed  by  the  confusion,  the  beautiful  countess 
forgot  her  little  theatrical  pose,  rose  up  hastily,  and 
rang  for  her  waiting-maid.  But  before  the  girl  had 
time  to  come,  Gosta  stood  in  the  door.  Nature  never 
intended  him  for  a courtier,  but  he  had  passed  three 
gay  years  at  court,  and  a sense  of  right  told  him  that 
an  explanation  of  his  unexpected  entrance  was  due  the 
beautiful  lady. 

He  gave  his  name,  told  of  mistaking  the  stairway, 
of  his  meeting  the  chamberlain,  and  begged  her  not  to 
take  it  ill  that  he  answered,  “It  is  I,”  when  the  ques- 
tion was  asked,  “ Is  it  you  ? ” 

The  explanation  was  received  very  graciously.  A 
hearty  smile,  one  of  those  smiles  that  enchant  half  the 
world,  played  upon  the  Countess  Konigsmark’s  lips. 
The  young  count’s  naive  explanation,  perhaps  also  his 
tall  and  strong  though  not  yet  fully  developed  stalwart 
form,  evidently  pleased  her.  Possibly  a plan  im- 
mediately suggested  itself,  for  the  countess  was 
known  to  plan  well.  The  world,  society,  and  her  own 
varied  fortunes  had  taught  her  the  art  to  perfection. 
Probably  her  quick  wit  had  at  once  conceived  the 
idea  of  making  the  disagreeable  mistake  useful  to  her- 
self. 

The  waiting-maid  who  entered  from  one  side,  and 
the  chamberlain  from  the  other,  received  a sign  to  re- 
tire. Gosta  Bertelskold  found  himself  tete-a-tete  with 
the  woman  who  had  disturbed  the  tranquillity  of  so 
many.  She  assigned  him  a place  quite  near  her,  and  he 
sat  down — not  without  embarrassment. 

“ I thank  my  lucky  stars  for  this  mistake,”  she  said, 
in  an  easy  and  unaffected  manner.  “ Do  you  know, 
indeed,  my  dear  count,  that  I have  the  honor  of  claim- 
ing kinship  with  your  family  ? Your  mother  is  a Sparre  ! 
I hope  she  finds  herself  well  ? There  is  a double  rela- 
tionship between  us  and  the  Sparres,  through  my  father 


68 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


and  my  brother-in-law  Lewenhaupt.  Besides,  with  your 
indulgence,  my  cousin  . . 

Count  Gosta  blushed  and  answered  only  with  a 
bow. 

“ I had  also  the  pleasure  of  making  your  father’s 
acquaintance  in  Hamburg,”  continued  the  countess. 
“ Permit  me,  womanlike,  to  tell  you  that  I have  seen 
few  gentlemen  like  him,  sans peur  et  sans  reproche.  My 
cousin,  I hope  that  you  may  one  day  be  like  your 
father.” 

There  was  something  sisterly,  almost  motherly,  in 
the  countess’s  tone  as  she  said  this,  and  she  con- 
tinued : 

“ I wish  you  success  in  the  heroic  school  in  which 
you  are  now  distinguishing  yourself.  I sincerely  ad- 
mire your  king.  Believe  me,  my  cousin,  there  is  no 
stronger  bond  between  exalted  souls  than  honor  ; men 
may  have  the  misfortune  to  oppose  each  other  as  ene- 
mies, and  yet  be  able  to  appreciate  bravery’s  victories. 
Your  king  is  a new  Alexander.  Congratulate  me,  my 
cousin,  that  I have  passed  the  age  of  fancy ; you  see, 
I have  only  seen  him  once,  and  I have  painted  his  por- 
trait from  memory.” 

With  these  words  she  drew  forth  an  oval  piece  of 
ivory,  on  which  appeared  an  unfinished  portrait  of 
Charles  XII,  tolerably  like,  but  considerably  flat- 
tering. 

“What  do  you  think  of  the  portrait  ?”  asked  the 
countess,  with  a somewhat  haughty  air  of  unconcern. 

“ Your  grace,  perhaps,  saw  his  majesty  at  court ; in 
that  case  the  likeness  is  good,  but  now  it  looks  too 
young ; his  majesty  has  been  browned  by  the 
weather.” 

“ Do  you  think  so  ? Then  I will  make  it  a little 
darker — much  darker  ! I have  a reason  for  it.  His 
majesty  is  a Jupiter,  though  one  sees  of  him  only  the 
lightning.  I can  testify  to  that,  my  cousin.  But  to 
shut  himself  up  behind  the  thunder  cloud  for  weeks  and 


THE  BLUE. 


69 


months  to  avoid  the  necessity  of  seeing  a woman  whose 
great  crime  is  to  have  two  fatherlands  which  she  would 
reconcile  — it  is  not  right,  it  is  not  noble!  Your 
king  is  . . . .” 

“ Brutal  ” was  probably  the  word  which  trembled  on 
the  lips  of  the  countess,  but  she  checked  herself.  The 
vehemence  in  her  tone  sank  to  gentleness  again  ; the 
passion  in  her  look  melted  away  in  new  sunshine. 

“ Your  king  is  a hero,  before  whom  we  other  mortals 
are  too  little  ! ” she  exclaimed,  with  irony’s  sharp  point 
swathed  in  cotton.  “ I have  been  bold  enough  to  write 
an  epigram  on  him  ; will  you  hear  it  ? You  are  too 
polite  to  refuse  ; a moment’s  patience.  Your  camp, 
my  cousin,  is  quite  tedious  ; how  would  you  that  I 
should  pass  the  time  ? My  guitar  is  out  of  tune,  so  is 
my  temper.  In  my  perplexity  I write  verse.” 

With  these  words,  the  beautiful  countess  took  from 
her  portfolio  a little  sheet  of  paper  and  read  with 
finished  skill  a poem  in  which  all  the  ancient  gods  ap- 
peared, one  after  the  other,  to  extol  the  virtues  of 
Charles  XII  : Mars  for  his  bravery,  Apollo  for  his 
beauty,  Jupiter  for  his  justice,  Minerva  for  his  wisdom, 
Diana  for  his  exploits  of  the  chase,  etc. 

“ ’Twas  thus  within  Fame’s  temple  he  was  led, 

And  thus  each  god  his  every  virtue  praised. 

But  silent  were  the  gods  of  wine  and  love.” 

One  would  have  believed  he  heard  Aphrodite  her- 
self declaiming  her  grief,  her  humiliation,  with  a nicety 
and  a grace  that  were  truly  inimitable.  Alas  ! these 
flowers  of  genius  were  to  a great  extent  lost  upon  the 
Carolin  Gosta  Bertelskold.  He  saw  what  no  young 
man  could  fail  to  see  : the  most  beautiful  woman  of  his 
time,  in  the  ecstasy  of  wounded  pride,  describe  her  own 
discomfiture  ; — more  he  did  not  see  ; the  fire  of  genius 
and  the  enigmas  of  woman’s  heart  were  things  hidden 
from  his  inexperienced  eyes. 

The  young  nobleman  felt  his  inferiority  ; he  seemed 


70 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


to  himself  exceedingly  awkward  and  unfortunate ; he 
did  not  dare  to  look  up,  for  the  brilliancy  of  those  eyes 
burned  like  a tropic  sun  on  a northern  pine  forest.  It 
became  impossible  for  him  to  endure  this  situation.  He 
arose  to  go. 

The  countess,  so  accustomed  to  flattering  eulogies 
of  her  talents, — and  poetry  at  that  time  was  only  the 
talent  of  arranging  words  agreeably  and  quickly — 
seemed  for  a moment  astonished  at  her  auditor’s  uncon- 
cern ; but  she  soon  penetrated  his  thoughts.  It  was 
not  thus  that  one  of  Charles  XII’s  warriors  could  be 
won. 

She  at  once  changed  her  tone.  “ Nay,  my  cousin,  I 
can  not  take  it  upon  my  conscience  to  have  wearied  you 
to  death  with  a tedious  poem.  Have  the  kindness  to 
listen  to  me  a moment.  Let  us  leave  these  playthings 
with  which  one  whiles  away  a lonely  and  unoccupied 
moment.  I am  in  a certain  way  a prisoner  in  your  camp. 
You  have  power.  I have  only  prayers.  Will  you  still 
go,  my  count  ? ” 

“ Your  grace  ...” 

“ You  have  a sister  ; imagine  that  I am  your  sister. 
You  have  a mother  ; imagine  that  I am  your  mother. 
You  are  a true  nobleman,  and  I can  therefore  say  to 
you  frankly  and  plainly  that  I desire  a service  of  you.” 

“If  it  is  in  my  power.” 

“ You  tell  me  that  in  a tone  as  if  you  feared  I in- 
tended to  ask  you  to  commit  an  act  of  high  treason. 
Fie  now,  my  cousin  ! Have  you  ever  heard  of  a 
Konigsmark  staining  his  shield  with  disloyalty  ? I pre- 
sume that  the  fortunes  of  my  family  are  not  unknown 
to  you.  After  we  chose  Sweden  as  our  country,  we 
served  it  honestly.  We  have  had  the  good  fortune  to 
do  the  government  important  service.  We  owned  an 
immense  estate  ; we  relied  on  the  word  and  honor  of 
the  king.  Yet  Charles  XI  took  from  us  everythiug  he 
could,  and,  disappointed,  impoverished  and  insulted, 
we  left  the  ungrateful  land  which  had  reaped  the  benefit 


THE  BLUE. 


71 


of  our  services,  and  now  reaped  the  benefit  of  our 
plundered  estates.” 

The  countess  abstractly  scratched  the  brightly 
polished  surface  of  the  table  with  the  handle  of  her  fan, 
and  continued  : 

“ You  can  see  that  our  devotion  to  the  Pfaltz-house 
must  grow  cool  under  such  circumstances.  My  brothers 
fell  in  their  prime.  My  sister  and  myself  were  two  de- 
fenceless women.  The  just  Charles  XI  refused  us;  we 
expected  something  of  his  son.  Charles  XII  refuses 
me  even  an  audience.  For  three  weeks  have  I sought 
for  it  in  vain.  Even  Count  Piper’s  intercessions  and 
petitions  have  been  in  vain.  I have  humbled  myself  to 
beseech,  where  I had  the  right  to  demand.  You  are 
proud,  my  count  ; you  know  then  what  it  means  to 
humiliate  one’s  self  before  the  confidants  of  a king.  . . 
Charles  will  not  see  me.  Oh,  he  does  not  know  a 
Konigsmark.  He  must  see  me,  he  must  hear  me  whether 
he  will  or  not.  And  for  this  purpose,  Count  Bertel- 
skold,  you  will  assist  to  me.” 

“ I,  my  countess  ! ” 

“ Again  that  mien,  my  amiable  cousin,  quite  as  if  I 
would  demand  a crime  of  you  ! What  then  do  you 
think  of  me  ! You  have  perhaps  been  told  that  I am 
sent  hither  by  King  August  to  mediate  a peace  ? And 
if  it  is  so,  which  you  can  believe  or  not  as  you  like, 
would  it  be  anything  so  wicked  to  wish  to  reconcile 
two  high-minded  princes,  who,  united,  could  turn 
against  their  common  and  most  formidable  rival,  Rus- 
sia ? Saxony  is  my  second  fatherland.  I should  then 
speak  in  its  behalf  to  my  first  fatherland.  With  or 
without  politics,  are  not  the  just  demands  of  my  family 
upon  the  Swedish  crown  an  eloquent  reason  for  this 
visit  to  the  Swedish  camp  of  an  unfortunate  woman 
whom  the  world  reviles  ? Is  it  a crime  for  you  to 
assist  me  in  this  ? Is  it  now  the  oath  of  a knight  in 
Sweden  to  refuse  to  the  persecuted  even  the  possi- 
bility of  regaining  their  rights  ? No,  my  count,  bon 


72 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


gre , mal  gre , the  king  must  hear  me  even  if  I cast 
myself  under  his  horse’s  feet.  Will  you  aid  me  in 
this  ? ” 

“ I do  not  comprehend  your  meaning.” 

The  countess  seized  the  hand  of  the  youth,  held  it 
between  her  own,  and  regarded  him  with  a look  which 
might  be  either  motherly  or  sisterly,  but  which,  perhaps 
against  her  own  will,  was  sufficient  to  burn  to  ashes 
the  heart  of  a boy  of  nineteen.  “ Every  day,”  said 
she,  “ an  hour  after  dinner,  the  king  spends  a short 
time  alone  in  his  tent.  Some  say  he  then  writes  to  his 
sister,  the  Countess  of  Holstein — he  requires  a week  to 
write  a letter.  Others  say  that  he  is  engaged  in  devo- 
tional exercises.  It  matters  not,  Bertelskold;  . . . . 
you  must  procure  me  admission  to  the  king’s  tent  at 
that  time  . . . .” 

The  young  warrior  was  silent. 

“I  understand  you.  It  would  attract  attention. 
Be  assured  ; I will  come  wrapped  in  an  officer’s  cloak. 
In  the  twilight,  no  one  will  recognize  me.” 

Bertelskold  remained  silent.  The  fire  in  the 
countess’s  eyes  blazed  higher. 

“ Perhaps  you  think  the  king  will  be  provoked.  It 
is  possible.  I do  not  fear  him.  I know  the  temper  of 
princes.  I know  how  to  conquer  them.  King 
Charles  will,  it  may  be,  meet  me  in  anger  he  will 
be  reconciled  when  we  separate. 

Bertelskold  was  still  silent.  The  flush  rose  higher 
on  his  brow.  The  countess  noticed  it.  She  redoubled 
her  powers  of  enchantment. 

“ Bertelskold — all  my  hope  is  in  you.  Every  other 
means  against  the  king’s  obstinacy  has  failed.  With- 
out you  everything  is  lost.  On  you  depends  the  fate 
of  my  family.  Yes,  more, — on  you  depends  perhaps 
the  weal  or  woe  of  two  kingdoms  and  the  peace  of  the 
world.  And  you  still  hesitate  ! Noble  count,  you  de- 
mand a greater  reward — a greater  still  ! If  there  is 
anything  still  higher,  still  more  beautiful,  speak,  and 


THE  BLUE . 


73 


the  thankful  Aurora  Konigsmark  is  ready  to  reward 
your  knightly  service  with  her  respect,  her  admiration, 
her  eternal  friendship  . . . 

O sorceress,  sorceress,  thou  princess  of  darkness  in 
angel  form,  thou  who  hast  bewitched  half  of  Europe 
by  the  lightning  of  thine  eyes — thou  before  whom 
princes  have  bent  the  knee  and  multitudes  of  adorers 
have  burned  idolatrous  incense — thou  beautiful,  tal- 
ented, irresistible  demon, — thou  offerest  a fascinated 
youth  the  boldest  reward  that  his  most  audacious 
dreams  have  trembled  to  imagine, — thou  charmest  him 
with  the  music  of  most  pleasing  words  ; — and  now  he 
stands  with  dizzy  brain  upon  the  brink  of  ruin,  and  no 
rescuing  voice  warns  him:  “Take  care,  take  care, 
sin’s  most  beautiful  apparition  ensnares  thee  with  roses, 
but  within  are  cruel  thorns  ! ” 

Yet,  that  voice  came  ; an  insignificant,  unimportant 
recollection — the  book  of  victories,  which  his  sister 
kept  at  Stockholm.  This  thought  was  enough.  Gosta 
Bertelskold  passed  his  hand  over  his  glowing  brow  as 
if  to  assure  himself  that  all  this  was  not  a juggling 
dream.  Thereupon  he  manned  his  soul,  withdrew  his 
hand  from  that  of  the  countess,  and  answered  firmly 
and  positively,  that  he  might  free  himself  from  every 
scruple. 

“Countess,  you  just  now  said  that  a Konigsmark 
never  stained  his  shield  with  disloyalty.  It  cannot  be 
that  you  seriously  desire  a Bertelskold  to  do  so.  What 
you  ask  is  high  treason  ; — my  master  and  king  I will 
never  betray.  You  ought  to  know  it;  what  reward 
could  you  give  me  that  would  outweigh  honor  ? 
Farewell,  your  grace  ! You  cannot  misunderstand  me. 
You  have  asked  like  a woman  ; I have  answered  like  a 
soldier,  and  every  warrior  in  our  camp  would  answer  as 
I have  done.” 

With  these  words  Gosta  Bertelskold  hastened  away, 
abruptly,  precipitately ; without  once  venturing  to  lift 
his  eyes  to  another  meeting  with  those  dangerous 

\ 


74 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


flames  which  threatened  to  set  his  whole  being 
ablaze. 

Returned  to  his  tent,  he  sought  to  pray.  He  would 
thank  God  that  he  had  escaped  temptation.  In  vain. 
His  thoughts  were  in  a whirl.  His  blood  was  in  an 
uproar.  He  threw  himself  upon  his  hard  bed ; there 
was  no  sleep  ! He  again  rushed  out  into  the  frosty 
winter-night ; there  was  no  chill ! A stream  of  fire 
raged  through  his  veins.  A demon  continually 
brought  before  his  eyes  the  bewitching  image  away 
there  in  that  luxurious  chamber.  Finally  he  lighted 
the  candle  and  sat  down  to  write.  He  wrote  to  his  af- 
fectionate, his  beloved  sister ; he  kept  in  his  mind 
another  image  whose  amiable  features  had  now  for  a 
long  time  grown  into  his  heart.  And  behold,  it  was 
successful.  The  fire  raged  less,  was  abated,  died  out, 
and  gave  place  to  the  indescribably  happy  quiet  of  a 
good  conscience.  Gosta  Bertelskold  even  ventured  in 
a postscript  to  ask  Ebba  to  inscribe  Wtirgen  in  the 
book  of  victories.  More  he  did  not  dare  to  divulge. 

When  he  left  the  castle,  the  eyes  of  the  countess 
shot  dark  flashes  after  the  youth,  and  bit  by  bit  she 
broke  up  the  glittering  fan  in  her  hand.  Then  she 
rung.  “ Czernicki,  you  have  your  discharge  to-mor- 
row. To  send  me  such  a dolt  ! To  humiliate  me  be- 
fore such  a marble  stock  ! Send  after  Tornflycht! — 
No,  you  need  not,  I will  not  see  him.  I will  not  see 
any  one  from  this  detestable  camp.” 

The  chamberlain  departed.  The  beautiful  count- 
ess burst  into  tears.  Alas,  she  was  still  a woman, 
she  still  had  a heart — that  heart  was  once  as  noble  and 
beautiful  as  herself,  and  sin  and  the  world  had  not 
availed  to  obliterate  all  traces  of  its  original  majesty. 
All  the  levity  of  her  time,  a whole  web  of  temptation’s 
most  artful  snares,  had  conspired  for  her  overthrow. 
How  many  mortals  have  had  strength  to  bear  her 
triumphs  and  avoid  her  fate  ! Those  who  have,  may 
cast  the  first  stone  at  the  admired,  the  worshipped,  and 


THE  BLUE . 


75 


yet,  in  the  depth  of  her  heart,  disappointed  woman, 
Maria  Aurora  Konigsmark,  a king’s  mistress  and  a 
hero’s  mother  ! 

Concerning  her  visit  to  the  Swedish  camp,  there 
can  be  added  that  she  undertook  the  boldest  project 
and  totally  failed.  One  day  she  succeeded  in  meeting 
the  king  on  a narrow  road  where  he  could  not  pass 
her.  She  immediately  stepped  out  of  the  carriage. 
But  the  king  raised  his  hat — neither  more  nor  less 
than  he  would  have  done  to  the  most  insignificant  per- 
son,— threw  himself  at  once  upon  his  horse,  and  rode 
away  without  saying  a word.  This  was  her  last  at- 
tempt. With  angry  tears  the  countess  left  the  Swedish 
camp,  taking  with  her  the  proud  knowledge  that  she 
was  the  only  mortal  that  Charles  XII  ever  feared. 


“Gold-haired,  full-bosomed,  slender, 
Came  Aurora,  fair  as  day  ; 

From  Sweden’s  young  defender 
She  went  unheard  away.” 


CHAPTER  V. 

REX  REGI  REBELLIS. 

rp HE  stormy  times  continued,  and  King  Charles 
I steadily  advanced.  The  book  of  victories,  kept 
by  young  Ebba  Bertelskold  at  Stockholm,  was 
constantly  receiving  new  inscriptions  on  new  pages. 
The  entrance  into  Warsaw,  the  victory  at  Klisson,  July 
19th,  1702,  and  the  capture  of  Cracow,  were  the  greatest 
and  most  illustrious  events  of  that  year. 

During  that  time  the  intrigues  of  factions  and  strat- 
egy played  their  dark  games  for  Poland’s  crown,  which 
had  now  become  the  stake  in  the  war’s  bloody  game  of 


76 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII . 


chance.  Misfortune,  though  cowardly  as  a thief,  be- 
gan, in  the  darkness,  to  nibble  the  conqueror’s  heels. 
At  Jesna,  where  Wiecnoviecki  slew  the  brave  Hummer- 
hjelm’s  knight,  the  first  Swedish  blood  flowed  in  a 
Polish  defeat.  Patkull  destroyed  Schlippenbach’s 
corps  at  Erastfer.  At  Cracow,  where  Magnus  Stenbock 
one  moment  levied  contributions  from  the  property  of 
the  churches  and  the  citizens  under  penalty  of  confla- 
gration, and  the  next  moment  let  the  choicest  wines 
flow  at  his  brilliant  table,  the  king  broke  his  leg.  But 
King  Charles  regarded  such  things  as  trivial. 

No  pen  can  describe  what  his  warriors  had  to 
endure  under  painful  marches,  in  hunger,  heat  and 
cold,  a little  band  surrounded  by  numberless  embit- 
tered foes.  Often  victory  was  their  reward  just  be- 
cause they  fought  for  life.  Their  fame  went  before 
them  like  a whirlwind  ; terror  paralyzed  the  enemy’s 
arm  ; under  the  Polander’s  polished  harness  the  heart 
beat  harder  and  under  the  Saxon’s  embroidered  jacket 
fear  ensconced  itself,  when,  afar  off,  the  Swedish 
standard  was  seen  waving  on  the  border  of  the 
forest.  Behind  Cracow’s  iron  gate  stood  old  Wieopol- 
ski  fully  determined  to  defend  the  castle  and  the  town. 
King  Charles,  with  Stenbock  and  a few  men,  crossed 
the  Vistula.  “ Open  the  gate  ! ” shouted  the  king  in 
French.  The  gate  was  opened.  Poland’s  second  capi- 
tal fell. 

But  during  these  conflicts  and  victories  the  king’s 
heart  hardened,  as  iron  becomes  more  dense  by  con- 
stant hammering.  All  his  royal  and  human  virtues 
stiffened  as  it  were  under  their  own  excess,  and  thus 
by  degrees  became  the  sure  harbinger  of  impending 
ruin.  They  sued  for  peace  : never  has  a conqueror, 
with  greater  blindness,  trampled  upon  the  fruits  of 
victory. 

Sweden  should  have  Courland,  King  August  would 
resign  Saxony’s  electoral  crown,  pay  six  million  rixdol- 
lars  in  reparation  of  damages,  and,  with  the  Polish 


THE  BLUE . 


77 


Republic,  ally  himself  with  Sweden  against  Russia. 
Charles  refused ; he  was  inflexibly  determined  to 
snatch  the  Polish  crown  from  the  perjured  August’s 
head,  “ if  he  must  for  that  purpose  remain  in  Poland 
fifty  years.”  These  were  fateful  words.  They  bore 
within  themselves  Poland’s  destruction,  Sweden’s 
discomfiture,  Finland’s  loss.  Had  the  Swedish  hero 
then  turned  his  sword  against  the  East,  where  the 
avalanche,  heavily,  slowly,  but  irrresistibly  moved 
forward  from  the  sources  of  the  Volga  against  the 
western  countries,  many  things  would  now  have  been 
different ; but,  Charles  XII  it  may  be  would  never 
have  become  the  man  of  whom  the  poet  says  that 


“ ....  he  could  not  surrender, 
But  he  could  fight  and  die.” 


The  whole  summer  and  autumn  of  1703  the  Swe- 
dish army  lay  spread  out  before  the  strong  fortification 
of  Thorn.  Seven  thousand  Saxons,  the  core  of  King 
August’s  army,  were  within,  under  command  of  the 
valiant  Kanitz,  and  swore  along  with  the  citizens  to 
defend  the  place  to  the  last.  It  was  here  that  the 
hoary  Bernhard  von  Liewen  fell  at  the  king’s  side, 
struck  by  a cannon  ball, — the  most  severely  felt  loss 
that  Charles  had  experienced  since  the  gallant  Duke  of 
Holstein  fell  before  a falconet  ball  at  Klissow.  It  was 
September  before  the  Swedes  obtained  heavy  artillery 
and  reinforcements  so  that  they  could  begin  to  bom- 
bard the  fort  which  they  had  hitherto  sought  to  reduce 
by  starvation.  The  whole  Swedish  camp  was  exposed 
on  every  side  and  had  no  other  ramparts  than  the 
courage  of  its  defenders.  It  was  boldness  even  to 
temerity, — the  most  defiant  sporting  with  danger  that 
any  general  ever  indulged  in  ; for  all  around  the  camp 
buzzed  the  Polish  light  cavalry  under  Brandt.  Not 
even  an  earthwork  was  thrown  up  in  front  of  the  king’s 
tent ; the  enemy’s  balls  continually  hovered  above  and 


78 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


about  it.  “ Breastworks,”  said  King  Charles,  “ are  less 
evidences  of  prudence  than  of  the  heart’s  cowardice.” 

Late  one  evening,  the  king  returned  from  reconnoi- 
tring in  the  vicinity,  went  softly  into  his  tent  on  tiptoe 
that  he  might  not  waken  his  sleeping  page,  threw  him- 
self upon  his  hard  bed  and  slept  soundly.  Early  the 
next  morning  the  page  was  awakened  by  a heavy  con- 
cussion, which  shook  the  tent-poles  and  the  light 
canvas.  A ball  had  struck  the  top  of  the  tent  and 
carried  off  a piece  of  it ; daylight  shone  in  through  the 
improvised  window.  But  the  king  slept. 

One  day  when  the  king  and  the  German  princes 
had  just  arisen  from  the  table,  a ball  went  straight 
through  the  tent  and  nearly  destroyed  the  silver  service 
on  the  table.  The  king  smiled. 

Another  day  the  king  stood  in  a trench  and  handed 
out  a fascine  himself,  in  order  to  hasten  the  work.  A 
ball  whistled  by  and  snatched  the  fascine  out  of  his 
hand.  King  Charles  took  another  fascine  and  contin- 
ued the  work  as  though  nothing  had  happened. 

These  dangers  had  their  fascination  ; this  personal 
courage  did  not  fail  of  its  impression.  The  least 
important  soldier  schooled  himself  not  to  regard  life 
and  blood  more  than  his  king  did. 

One  morning  in  the  beginning  of  October  a squad- 
ron of  the  life-dragoons  had  taken  position  at  the 
farthest  point  of  the  works,  as  a shield  for  the  laborers, 
and  perhaps  still  more  for  the  purpose  of  watching  the 
unfortunate  Polish  peasants  who  were  required  in  the 
midst  of  a shower  of  balls  to  prepare  walls  and  batteries 
to  overcome  the  strongest  bulwark  of  their  country. 
The  king  himself  was  as  usual  foremost  in  the  danger 
not  far  away.  A conversation  arose  among  the  dra- 
goons, since  they  had  nothing  else  to  do. 

“ Bogatir  has  grown  very  poor  lately,”  said  a 
bearded  captain  to  Gosta  Bertelskold,  who  stopped 
beside  him.  “ I’ll  bet  you  my  stirrups  against  a 
cast-off  horse  shoe  that  he  won’t  last  through  the  next 


THE  BLUE . 


79 


engagement.  Shoot  him  in  the  forehead,  that  is  the 
best  thing  to  do ; we  shall  get  better  horses  in 
Thorn/’ 

“ I would  be  crazy  to  do  that,”  answered  the  exas- 
perated young  lieutenant.  “ Bogatir  had  a Finnish 
dam,  though  his  sire  was  Polish,  and  everything  Fin- 
nish is  as  tough  as  sin  ; it  lasts  when  one  thinks  it  is 
about  worn  out  and  in  a hopeless  condition.  No, 
better  so  than  that  Polish  vivacity  which  rushes  along, 
galloping  at  first  and  dragging  its  legs  before  the  ride 
is  over.  When  do  you  think,  Lagerkrants,  that  we 
shall  get  in  behind  those  walls  ? ” 

“When  God  and  the  king  will,”  was  the  reply. 
“ There  he  stands  again  by  the  outer  battery.  Look 
you,  that  is  a king  ! The  balls  hail  around  him  like 
peas.” 

“ Certainly  King  Charles  stands.  God  is  his 
shield.” 

“ Let  him  believe  that  who  will.  I have  my  own 
opinion.” 

“ What  more  is  necessary  than  trust  in  God,  and  a 
good  conscience  ? 

“Yes,  you  see,  the  king  is  invulnerable.” 

“ Nonsense.” 

“Tell  me,  you  have  been  with  the  king  in  a good 
many  adventures,  have  you  ever  seen  him  bleed  ? ” 

“No,  I do  not  remember  that  I have  ever  seen 
that.” 

“ There  we  have  it.  Twice  have  you  seen  the  king 
fall  before  the  bear’s  paws.  Twenty  times  have  you 
seen  him,  as  it  were,  nod  to  the  balls  : ‘ Go  by,  scoun- 

drels ! ’ But  you  have  never  seen  him  bleed.  I think 
it  is  clear.  The  king  is  invulnerable.  Neither  iron 
nor  lead,  neither  living  nor  dead,  can  harm  him.” 

“ I cannot  believe  that.  God  is  his  shield.” 

“ The  king  is  not  a worse  man  because  he  is  invul- 
nerable. Every  child  knows  that  Gustaf  Adolph  was 
also  invulnerable.  Nothing  could  wound  him  except- 


80 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


ing  a silver  ball  cast  from  the  image  of  a saint.  Your 
grandfather  was  also  invulnerable,  they  say.” 

“ I have  heard  that  said.  But  I believe  that  men 
willingly  seek  small  causes  for  great  things.  It  is  some- 
thing great  for  a man  to  have  a heroic  heart  and  for  a 
general  or  a king  not  to  give  way  an  inch  to  danger,  but 
to  seek  it  even  more  than  his  poorest  servant.  Common 
persons  do  not  comprehend  this,  but  they  invent  all 
kinds  of  superstitions  in  order  to  not  believe  in  a hero- 
ism which  they  do  not  understand.” 

“ No,  Bertelskold,  you  are  putting  on  airs.  You  can 
not  deny  that  your  father  became  invulnerable  because 
a Finnish  witch  gave  him  a ring.  You  are  also  a Finn  ; 
you  know  more  than  you  pretend.  I would  not  be 
ashamed  of  it  if  you  could  get  me  such  a talisman. 
Then  would  I at  once  become  a hewer.  I would  take 
Thorn  alone.” 

“ That  you  can  do  without  the  ring.  I cannot  get 
it  for  you  ; my  brother  Torsten  has  it.” 

“ That  is  a shame.  Such  a quill-fighter  as  he  is  will 
never  in  his  life  have  to  do  with  anything  but  ink.  But 
wait — yes,  now  I think  of  something.  I met  Torsten 
the  day  before  he  went  to  Paris.  We  were  talking  about 
the  ring,  and  he  swore  that  he  had  lost  it  a week 
before.” 

“ Is  it  possible  ? He  did  not  tell  me  of  it.” 

“ Because  you  were  always  in  a quarrel.  I have  an 
idea.  People  said  of  your  grandfather  that  he  had  luck 
in  everything,  and  that  on  this  account  his  disposition 
became  somewhat  inflexible,  so  that  he  did  not  care  for 
anything  else,  if  he  but  accomplished  what  he  had  in 
view.” 

“ I have  heard  that  said.” 

“ Well,  do  you  understand  now  ? What  do  you  say 
of  the  king  ? Is  he  not,  as  it  were,  a little  stiff  in  his  way, 
so  that  no  devil  could  turn  him  from  his  undertaking, 
though  it  might  seem  quite  impossible  ? ” 


THE  BLUE . 


81 


“ Yes,  because  he  always  wishes  what  is  right  and 
good  and  earnest.” 

“ Bombast ! I have  a proper  respect  for  the  king;  no 
blackguard  can  say  that  I have  not.  But  can  he  help  it 
that  he  is  human  and  can  go  astray  ? He  is  quite  in- 
flexible. When  we  add  to  this  that  he  has  good  luck  in 
everything,  and  everybody  knows  that,  then — ” 

“ Then  what  ? ” 

“ Then  I will  swear  to  it  that  he  has  the  ring  that 
Torsten  lost.  Yes,  just  exactly  the  same  ring  ! ” 

“ You  are  crazy.” 

“ Do  you  notice,”  continued  the  captain,  “ how  the 
Saxons  from  their  bastion  are  firing  continually  at  the 
trench  where  the  king  stands  ? Thunder  and  lightning  ! 
They  have  brought  over  their  largest  cannon.  I know 
it.  One  of  their  deserters  told  me  that  they  called  it 
The  Cat.” 

“ That  cat  will  not  get  her  claws  in  our  ermine.” 

“ If  your  eyes  are  better  than  mine,  tell  me.  I seem 
to  see  the  artillerist  approach  with  the  match.  I’ll 
wager  that  they  have  a hint  of  the  king’s  presence  and 
are  aiming  at  him.  Hagel  und  Wetter , Bertelskold. 
Shall  I ride  thither  and  warn  his  majesty  ? ” 

“ If  you  go  there,  the  king  will  tell  you  to  learn 
manners.  Never  yet  has  King  Charles  answered  a 
warning  otherwise  than  with  a frown,  and  when  there 
was  an  opportunity,  a few  lashes.” 

“ But  you  are  out  of  your  mind.  Scarcely  four  hun- 
dred paces.  Look  out ! You  will  see  in  a minute  that 
the  cat  snarls.” 

Bom  ! The  captain  had  hardly  finished  his  sentence 
before  the  gun  at  the  nearest  bastion  went  off  with  a 
deep  bass  that  outvoiced  the  cannonading  and  the  dis- 
charge of  musketry  round  about.  A dense  cloud  of 
dust  and  sand  showed  clearly  enough  that  the  heavy  ball 
had  hit  the  low  wall  of  gabions,  by  the  trench  where 
the  king  stood. 

F 


82 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII . 


“ Sapperment!  ” shrieked  the  captain.  “ Where  did 
the  king  go  ? ” 

“ I saw  him  just  now  standing  there  by  the  gabions. 
Great  God,  if  any  misfortune! — One  can  not  see  any- 
thing for  the  dust.” 

“ What  did  I say  ? ” shouted  the  captain,  and  put 
spurs  to  his  horse.  Gosta  Bertelskold  followed  him  in 
great  consternation. 

At  the  trench  all  was  perplexity.  A broad  furrow 
in  the  wall  showed  where  the  ball  went  ; it  had  cut  off 
a peasant’s  head  and  a soldier’s  arm ; a third  was  swept 
from  the  ground,  and  that  was  the  king. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  amazement  which  at 
that  moment  seized  upon  those  who  were  standing 
about.  The  king  was  everything  to  the  army,  and,  as 
some  thought,  to  Sweden.  With  him  went  victory  ; with 
him  the  impossible  was  possible  ; without  him  all  was 
lost.  The  army  had  so  accustomed  itself  to  this 
thought,  that  no  one  could  imagine  a future,  if  the  king 
fell. 

The  first  impression  lasted  hardly  a minute.  When 
the  first  dust  was  driven  away  by  the  wind,  they  saw  the 
king’s  arm  with  a skirt  of  his  well-known  blue  coat  ap- 
pear above  a pile  of  sand,  endeavoring  to  work  out. 
Everybody  rushed  thither  with  spades  and  shovels,  and 
threw  the  dirt  about  with  more  zeal  than  discretion.  A 
moment  afterwards  King  Charles  was  rising  above  the 
dirt-mound  as  from  a grave — gray  as  his  mother  earth, 
but  mettlesome,  and  grumbling  because  his  mouth  was 
full  of  sand.  A miracle  had  occurred  ; the  royal  hero 
was  entirely  unhurt  ; the  ball  had  only  swept  over  him 
a little  mountain  of  sand  and  small  stones. 

“What  did  I say!  ” whispered  Lagerkrants,  forgetting 
his  former  fear.  “ He  is  invulnerable — invulnerable  as 
granite.  All  the  cats  in  the  world  would  break  their 
claws  against  his  blue  coat  ! ” 

“ That  amounts  to  nothing  ! ” shouted  the  king. 
“ More  baskets  this  way  ! Fire  away,  boys  ! Give  the 


THE  BLUE . 


83 


cat  some  peas  in  her  eyes,  so  she  will  stop  scratch- 
ing ! ” 

A terrible  fire  from  all  the  Swedish  batteries,  followed 
by  a resounding  shout  of  exultation,  showed  the  Saxons 
the  king’s  peril,  his  salvation  and  his  courage.  The  cat 
was  soon  dismounted.  Great  pieces  of  the  walls  and 
breastworks  of  the  fort  tumbled  down.  At  midday, 
Kanits  desired  to  capitulate  with  free  egress.  The  king 
refused,  and  ordered  his  men  to  redouble  their  fire. 
Irritated  perhaps  by  the  last  scratching,  he  determined 
that  the  city  should  be  stormed. 

In  the  first  place,  Generals  Posse  and  Stenbock,  with 
two  thousand  men,  were  to  go  around  the  island  in  the 
middle  of  the  Vistula,  which  was  covered  with  cannons. 
From  there  the  city  should  afterward  be  stormed.  But 
the  king  had  miscalculated  in  one  thing  : it  was  im- 
possible to  obtain  boats  enough  for  more  than  six  hun- 
dred men. 

When  he  was  informed  of  this,  the  well-known  angry 
frown  made  its  appearance  above  King  Charles’  eye- 
brows, and  his  only  answer  was  the  equally  well- 
known  : 

“ Forward  ! March  ! ” 

Charles  XII  was  a Titan  ready  to  defiantly  storm 
the  very  lightnings  of  heaven.  Then  involuntarily 
came  into  the  mind  of  Gosta  Bertelskold  the  three  let- 
ters R.  R.  R.  in  the  heirloom  of  his  family,  the  copper 
ring,  which  letters  came  to  mean  : Hex  Regi  Rebellis , 
the  king  rebels  against  the  king.  These  words  seemed 
to  him  so  terribly  apt,  that  in  spite  of  himself,  he  re- 
called Lagerkrants’s  improbable  conjecture  concerning 
the  ring,  and  determined  that  he  would  ask  his  sister 
Ebba  about  it  in  his  next  letter. 

In  the  meantime  night  set  in,  when  the  adventurous 
enterprise  was  to  be  executed.  The  danger,  yes,  the 
impossibility,  of  thus  storming  the  enemy’s  works  was 
so  apparent  that  the  bravest  hesitated.  Stenbock, 
always  wise  and  cautious,  took  courage  from  the 


Si 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


unusual  expression  he  read  in  all  eyes,  and  ventured  the 
unheard-of  proceeding  of  addressing  the  king  in  the 
following  sharp  words,  in  the  name  of  the  whole  com- 
mand : 

“ Your  majesty,  your  royal  will  is  entirely  free  to  un- 
dertake this  attack,  although  it  is  done  against  the 
humble  opinion  of  your  whole  command,  and  will  take 
your  people  to  certain  butchery.  We  shall,  as  faithful 
subjects  and  warriors,  follow  your  majesty  wherever  the 
project  leads  ; but  we,  and  all  with  us,  declare  that  at 
the  moment  your  majesty  puts  his  boat  out  from  the 
land,  we  shall  rush  blindly  to  storm  the  walls,  that  we 
all  may  find  death  where  our  king  and  master  cannot 
fail  to  find  it.  ’ 

At  this  speech,  learned  in  his  own  school,  King 
Charles  hesitated.  The  darkness  of  night  spread  itself 
over  his  illustrious  brow,  and  he  gazed  silently  and  long 
upon  the  cloud-wrapt  tower  of  the  fort,  and  the  broad 
river,  whose  dark  waters,  stirred  by  a storm,  seemed 
greedily  waiting  to  draw  down  thousands  of  brave 
men  to  its  dark  grave. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Charles  XII  wavered  ; 
mighty  thoughts  dashed  against  each  other  in  his  un- 
yielding mind.  While  he  yet  stood  there,  undetermined 
which  sacrifice  was  greater — his  will,  or  thousands  of 
wasted  lives, — Piper  approached,  the  man  who  best  un- 
derstood how  to  lead  wisely  the  inflexible  lion. 

“Your  majesty/’ said  he  warily, “deign  to  cast  a look 
at  the  southeast.  Day  breaks  ; it  is  too  late  to  storm.” 

The  king  turned  his  head  mechanically.  In  truth, 
there  already  appeared  a slight  stream  of  the  tardy 
autumn  morning’s  light  glimmering  in  the  sky  and  light- 
ing the  pinnacles  of  the  sleeping  Thorn. 

“ You  are  right,”  said  the  king,  glad  perhaps  to  find 
a reason  for  the  first  countermand  he  had  ever  given 
when  it  related  to  an  attack. 

The  king’s  rebellion  against  the  king  was  for  the 
moment  put  down. 


THE  BLUE. 


85 


This  victory  of  right  was  soon  rewarded  by  a com- 
plete triumph.  Kanits  saw  the  preparations  made  by 
the  Swedes  to  storm,  and  for  the  second  time  he  de- 
sired to  capitulate.  The  fort  surrendered  October  13; 
the  officers  were  allowed  to  retain  their  arms  ; the  entire 
garrison  became  prisoners  of  war.  Thorn  had  man- 
fully defended  itself.  The  greater  part  of  the  inhabi- 
tants had  died  from  want  and  disease.  Of  the  seven 
thousand  defenders,  there  remained  but  one  thousand 
six  hundred  well,  and  two  thousand  five  hundred  sick. 
The  valiant  Kanits  was  received  with  great  honor,  and 
given  a place  at  his  majesty’s  table.  But  the  fortifica- 
tion was  leveled  to  the  ground,  and  a fire-tax*  of  one 
hundred  thousand  rixdollars  took  away  the  last  remains 
of  the  wealth  of  this  city,  lately  so  rich. 

More  difficult  perhaps  than  all  the  foregoing  victor- 
ies, was  the  victory  of  prudence  and  humanity  over  the 
inflexible,  imperious  will.  As  in  the  days  of  Charles 
Gustavus,  there  often  arose  the  question  which  con- 
tinually will  arise  where  the  pride  of  great  and  strong 
spirits  is  puffed  up  by  the  wind  of  prosperity  : 

What  remains  for  him  who  has  conquered  the 
world  ? To  conquer  himself. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


Letter  from  Ebb  a Bertelskold  to  her  brother , Gustaf 
Adolph  Bertelskold , lieutenant  in  the  life  dragoons. 


Stockholm,  Jan.  25th,  1704. 


HER  GUSTAVE  : 


With  what  joy  of  heart  your  forsaken  sister 
received  your  letters,  I can  never  accurately  describe. 
I hold  you  so  very  dear,  that  there  is  no  other  person 

* A tax  levied  under  penalty  of  conflagration. — Tr. 


86 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


in  the  world,  excepting  one,  who  in  some  degree  is  like 
you,  and  that  one  ....  Cceur  de  771a  vie, 
Gustaf,  if  you  do  not  come  back  soon,  your  sister  will 
never  find  any  one  to  comfort  her. 

My  dear  brother,  I have  not  forgotten  what  you 
wrote  me  : that  I should  inscribe  all  your  victories  in 
the  blue  book  that  Erik  Falkenberg  gave  me.  I have 
done  so  faithfully,  and  there  is  already  a long  row  which 
I cannot  count  up  by  memory.  When  Eva  comes  to 
see  me,  she  is  always  very  curious  to  know  if  anything 
has  happened.  I tell  her  that  everything  is  done  on 
her  account,  yes,  that  actually  the  kings  of  Sweden  and 
Poland  and  the  czar  would  make  peace  with  each  other 
if  Eva  did  not  set  herself  against  it  and  spur  you,  dear 
Gustaf,  on  to  such  ambition  that  there  never  can  be 
peace,  unless  Eva  Falkenberg’s  blue  eyes  wink  their 
consent  to  it. 

“ The  blue,  the  blue,  have  all  deserved,”  says  Gyl- 
lenborg  in  his  new  song  of  ‘Daphnis  and  Chloe.’  To 
that  Eva  answers  with  another  color,  one  that  is  not 
found  on  Sweden’s  banner,  namely,  the  red.  Yes,  dear 
Gustaf,  it  is  now  more  than  four  years  and  a half  since 
you  went  away,  and  yet  Eva  blushes  deeply  every  time 
we  speak  of  you.  But  I cannot  promise  that  she  will 
blush  always, — impossible,  my  wandering  knight.  Eva 
will  be  nineteen  years  old  in  March,  and  I in  April, 
children  of  Eve  that  we  are.  One  year,  at  most  two, 
can  the  war  last  yet,  otherwise  .... 

Ah,  no  ! A Smaland  girl  sung  for  me  a few  days 
ago  one  of  their  old  songs  : 

“For  fifteen  years  slow-rolling,  will  I thy  coming  wait, 

And  after  if  thou  comest  not  will  I wait  on 
Mid  the  roses.” 

Cher  Gustave , I congratulate  you  and  the  king — no, 
the  king  and  you — for  all  your  great  bravery,  the  fame 
of  which  quite  fills  the  whole  of  Europe.  But  in  your 
private  ear  I would  whisper  : There  are  many  who 


THE  BLUE. 


87 


regard  peace  as  far  better  than  all  of  Bellona’s  man- 
dates, and  that  many  sorrowing  girls  think  as  I do — I 
mean  as  all  the  rest  do  ; — you  must  not  take  that  amiss. 
It  is  said  here  in  Stockholm  that  the  king’s  absence  is 
more  to  the  glory  of  the  kingdom  than  to  its  good,  and 
the  council  begins  to  do  obeisance  to  my  most  gracious 
Princess  Ulrika,  who  has  grown  tall  since  you  were 
here,  and  resembles  somewhat  her  saintly  mother  ; but 
is  not  so  good  at  heart  as  the  blessed  queen.  It  is  true 
that  she  is  sometimes  so  friendly  to  us  that  we  see 
nothing  to  show  that  she  is  not  one  of  us  ; particularly 
when  we  feed  the  canary  birds  together ; but  at  other 
times  she  is  haughty,  and  regards  us  countesses  as  so 
many  chamber-maids,  which  is  almost  insufferable  ; but 
I should  add  this,  that  she  is  for  the  most  part  quite 
amiable,  and  that  I know  her  four  (!)  chief  inclina- 
tions to  a dot;  but  dear  Gustaf,  you  certainly  would  not 
wish  me  to  . . . 

Yesterday,  which  was  the  24th  of  January,  her  royal 
highness’s  birthday  was  celebrated.  Her  majesty,  the 
queen  dowager,  through  the  housekeeper  and  her  own 
servants,  invited  only  high  officials,  foreign  ministers, 
countesses,  and  every  other  lady  who  is  accustomed  to 
come  to  court.  At  five  o’clock  there  were  cards  and 
dancing  in  her  majesty’s  apartments, — the  dancing  was 
in  the  rotunda.  At  the  usual  table  sat  as  many  of  the 
most  illustrious  as  could  find  room,  and  up  in  the  ladies’ 
hall  a table  was  spread  for  eighteen  persons,  with  four 
courses  and  pyramids.  In  the  rotunda  was  set  an  oval 
table  with  seventeen  baskets  of  confections,  but  they 
did  not  dance  after  supper,  because  it  was  Saturday 
evening. 

It  cannot  be  very  interesting  to  you,  dear  Gosta,  to 
learn  the  court  gossip  ; but  the  bird  twitters  most  about 
its  nest.  I cannot  keep  it  secret  that  Catherine  Lillje 
was  betrothed  last  Friday  to  the  page  Palmfelt,  the 
same  one  who  for  a half  a year  burned  in  a bright  flame 
for  Eva  Falkenberg ; be  calm,  my  best  brother,  he  is  as 


88 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


certainly  bound  in  bonds  and  fetters  as  I am  not  so, 
but  ...  I enclose  herein  a letter  from  our  dear 
mother,  who,  God  be  praised,  is  in  good  health,  as  is 
also  Torsten.  He  was  last  summer  at  the  baths  in 
Piermont.  Adieu,  a thousand  adieux,  cher  frere.  I can 
go  no  further.  I write  this  early  in  the  morning,  by  can- 
dle-light, and  deshabille , but  the  princess  expects  us  to 
be  on  duty  at  eight  o’clock,  and  I must  not  neglect 
that.  Adieu,  Adieu. 

Your  always  faithful  little  sister, 

Ebba. 

P.  S. — 2 o’clock,  p.  m. — I can  not  seal  this  without 
telling  you  what  the  princess  said  to  me  this  morning. 
I came  to  her  a quarter  after  eight.  Her  highness  made 
a little  mouth,  and  I made  my  excuse — that  I had  been 
writing  to  you.  uHow  does  your  handsome  brother 
prosper  ?”  said  she,  tout  apropos.  “ In  his  majesty’s  pres- 
ence,” I replied,  “every  one  prospers.”  “ That  is  good,” 
she  then  said;  “I  wonder  if  his  pretty  blue  eyes  have 
become  black  with  powder-smoke  ?”  Again  the  blue  ! 
Ciely  Gustave,  can  you  actually  have  been  princess 
Ulrika’s  first  flame  ? and  never  a word  have  you  told 
me  about  it.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  I recall  what  you 
asked  about  in  your  letter.  The  ring — Gosta,  can  I 
depend  upon  your  silence  and  upon  the  courier?  They 
say  that  letters  from  Stockholm  are  sometimes  broken 
open  by  Piper. 

Chide  me  not,  my  best  friend;  I am  dreadfully  sorry 
for  my  childishness,  but  remember  that  I was  only  four- 
teen years  old  ; her  royal  highness  the  duchess  is  to 
blame  for  it  all.  You  know  how  she  loves  King  Charles, 
and  he  her.  When  he  was  about  to  go  to  the  war 
she  had  me  called  to  her  one  day,  caressed  me  fondly, 
and  gave  me  a big  bag  of  candy.  Then  she  said  to  me  : 
“Tell  me,  little  miss,  is  it  true  that  your  brother  Tor- 
sten owns  a ring  that  was  worn  by  the  sainted  King 
Gustaf  Adolf,  and  which  makes  a man  invulnerable  in 
war  ?” 


THE  BLUE . 


89 


“I  have  heard  so,  your  royal  highness,”  said  I, 
“but  I do  not  know  it  for  certain.” 

“ If  you  will  get  me  that  ring,”  said  she,  “ I will 
give  Count  Torsten  in  its  stead  a ring  of  much  greater 
value.  He  is  no  warrior  and  does  not  need  such 
things.” 

“I  will  ask  Torsten  for  the  ring,”  I said. 

“ No,  not  at  all,”  said  the  duchess,  “ do  not  by  any 
means  do  that,  little  friend  ; this  must  not  be  talked 
about  to  any  one;  his  majesty  has  a terrible  dislike  for 
all  charms.  But  you  exchange  the  two  rings  without 
Torsten’s  knowing  it,  and  afterward  give  me  the  one  I 
want,  and  I promise  that  you  shall  be  present  at  the 
great  fete  before  the  king’s  departure.” 

Ah,  dear  Gosta,  I am  so  sorry!  I never  can  be  sorry 
enough  for  having  done  her  royal  highness’s  will.  I 
never  should  have  done  it  if,  that  very  evening,  when 
Torsten  swore  and  protested  to  old  Miss  Posse  that 
he  was  madly  in  love  with  her  (which  was  mere  show, 
for  I found  out  afterward  that  he  had  laid  a wager 
with  his  comrades  about  it),  just  then  he  drew  off  his 
glove  and  dropped  it,  and  when  I took  up  the  glove 
the  ring  was  in  it,  although  it  generally  fitted  so  tight 
that  no  one  could  get  it  off. 

In  a little  while  Torsten  enquired  for  his  glove,  ask- 
ing mockingly,  as  is  his  wont,  if  I had  found  a better 
glove  than  my  own.  We  had  that  afternoon  had  a 
controversy  and  disputed  like  little  children,  he  was 
always  so  annoying.  So  I answered  : “ Here  is  your 
miserable  glove.  I would  not  put  it  on  my  little  fin- 
ger.” Then  I gave  him  back  his  glove,  but  not  the 
ring,  keeping  it  for  the  purpose  of  annoying  him  when 
he  missed  it.  He  did  not  notice  that  evening  that  the 
ring  was  gone. 

I can  not  tell  certainly,  mon  coeur , whether  her  royal 
highness  noticed  my  quarrel  with  Torsten,  and  drew 
her  conclusion  from  that,  but  very  soon  afterwards  she 
came  upon  me  suddenly  and  asked  for  the  ring,  saying 
4* 


90 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


that  I most  surely  had  it.  Whereupon  I became  very 
red,  and  did  not  dare  to  refuse,  but  gave  her  the  ring; — 
I have  bitterly  repented  it  since.  Torsten  was  very  sad 
when  he  missed  the  ring,  and  had  a careful  search  made 
in  every  room  we  were  in  that  evening  ; mon  ccacr,  you 
can  imagine  with  what  success  it  was  done.  He  for- 
bade my  ever  telling  you;  you  would  find  fault  enough 
with  him  for  other  things,  he  said.  So  he  was  obliged 
to  go  away  without  the  ring,  and  with  a chagrin  that 
really  pained  me  ; but  could  I help  it  ? I gave  him 
the  duchess’s  ring  instead,  telling  him  it  was  a farewell 
gift  from  her  royal  highness,  which  he  believed  without 
suspecting  anything. 

I did  not  afterwards  dare  to  ask  her  royal  highness 
her  intentions  regaiding  the  ring,  but  when  I think  of 
her  great  love  for  his  majesty,  and  her  asking  before  if 
a person  with  that  ting  would  not  go  safe  and  sound 
through  every  encounter,  I am  almost  certain  that  she 
gave  the  ring  to  the  king  (in  case  she  did  not  give  it  to 
the  blessed  duke,  her  husband).  So  I will  tell  you  that 
the  king  has  it,  but  does  not  himself  know  it ; I can 
never  believe  that  he  would  make  use  of  any  charm  if 
he  knew  it.  I have  also  heard  that  he  wears  a medal- 
lion with  his  blessed  mother’s  portrait;  but  I can  not  say 
this  for  certain.  If  you  can  form  any  clear  opinion 
about  this  secret,  I shall  be  glad.  I am  extremely  sorry 
for  my  foolishness  ; forgive  me,  cher  Gustave,  and  I 
will  never  do  so  again. 

Your  foolish  and  repentant  sister, 

Ebba. 


THE  BLUE. 


91 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  CHASE  AT  LIEBEVERDA. 

KING  CHARLES  XII  now  stood  at  the  height 
of  his  victorious  career.  What  brilliant  triumphs! 
What  irresistible  progress  ! Warsaw  taken,  re-taken, 
and  again  conquered  ; Lemberg  stormed  with  a hand- 
ful of  cavalry  ; the  Saxons  slaughtered  at  Punits,  the 
Poles  at  Jacobstadt,  the  Russians  at  Gemauerchof  ; 
Lithanen,  Vohhynten  conquered  ; the  net  of  intrigues 
hewn  asunder  with  the  sword  ; the  crown  of  Poland 
snatched  from  the  head  of  August,  and  pressed  upon 
the  brow  of  Stanislaus  ; the  conqueror  entering  Saxony 
like  a heavy  sea ; all  Germany  in  a tremor ; all  Europe 
in  astonishment ; the  Roman  Emperor  trembling  on 
his  throne,  and  ready  to  grant  the  oppressed  Protest- 
ants everything  they  demanded  of  his  kingdom  ! 

And  during  all  this  time,  while  victory,  like  a con- 
quering Norn,  followed  the  Swedish  banner  in  the . 
South,  destruction,  like  a lurking  thunderbolt,  crept 
behind  the  conqueror’s  back,  and  took  silently  but 
surely  territory  after  territory,  strand  after  strand  in 
exchange  for  victories  without  gain,  and  honor  with- 
out wisdom.  Noteborg  conquered  ; Nyenskans  thrice 
stormed  and  taken  with  capitulation  ; Dorpot  besieged 
and  taken  ; Narva  stormed  and  conquered  ; Ingerman- 
land  and  Esthonia  overrun  and  taken  ; Livonia  and 
Courland  threatened  ; Petersburg  founded  ; Ankarstj- 
erna’s  attack  upon  Kronstadt  repelled, — nothing  of  all 
this  was  able  to  withdraw  the  Swedish  hero  from  his 
glorious  but  unfortunate  game  for  Poland’s  crown.  He 
did  not  see  what  every  prudent  man  about  him  saw, 
that  these  armies  which  during  his  absence  had  planted 


92 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


the  aggressive  Russian  standard  in  the  west,  were  no 
longer  the  same  that  he  had  overthrown  at  Narva. 
War  had  bred  them  ; Czar  Peter  knew  how  to  learn 
lasting  wisdom  from  defeat,  while  King  Charles  gath- 
ered ruin  from  victory  itself. 

The  treaty  of  peace  made  at  Altranstadt,  where  the 
Polish  crown  fell  for  a moment  from  the  head  of  the 
humiliated  August,  was  yet  a diplomatic  secret,  when 
Menschikoff  at  Kalisch  slew  the  Swedes  under  Marder- 
felt.  Nothing  was  able  to  disturb  King  Charles’s  firm 
faith  in  his  fortune, — that  same  faith  of  which  Dahl- 
berg  formerly  said:  “King  Charles  thinks  fortune  is 
four-cornered!” 

King  Charles  was  a great  man;  he  fought  for  what 
he  considered  just  and  right,  without  looking  to  the 
right  or  left.  He  could  not  bend;  therefore,  he  fell. 
The  Czar  Peter  was  a great  ruler;  he  fought  for  his 
country’s  regeneration;  he  could  bend  before  adversity 
without  breaking;  therefore,  he  did  not  fall  until  he  had 
reached  his  goal. 

At  Altranstadt,  near  the  renowned  battle  field  of 
Lutzen,  the  Swedish  army  encamped.  Charles  XII 
was  shown  the  spot  where  Gustaf  Adolf  fell.  The  king 
was  heard  to  say:  “I  have  sought  to  live  like  him; 
perhaps  God  will  one  day  grant  me  an  equally  glorious 
death!'’ 

Yet  the  death  of  Charles  XII  was  not  like  that  of 
Gustaf  Adolf, — nor  was  his  life  like  his. 

King  Charles  and  King  August  had  for  the  first 
time  met  personally  at  Giinthersdorf  near  Leipsic. 
Nordberg  describes  this  notable  event  in  four  long  col- 
umns. To  see  these  two  kings,  cousins  by  birth,  whose 
feuds  had  for  six  years  covered  extensive  and  fruitful 
lands  with  blood  and  desolation — to  see  them  with  open 
arms  fall  upon  each  other’s  bosom,  this  was  something 
so  moving  that  tears  trickled  down  the  cheeks  of  the 
assembled  warriors.  The  meeting  was  so  hearty,  so 
brotherly;  King  Charles  was,  contrary  to  his  custom, 


THE  BLUE . 


93 


so  polite,  so  attentive;  he  always  gave  King  August 
precedence;  they  ate  side  by  side,  they  slept  under  the 
same  roof,  they  conversed  together  long  and  confiden- 
tially in  private.  The  scoffer,  Voltaire,  whose  admira- 
tion never  once  induced  him  to  lay  aside  his  vile  habit 
of  grinning  at  everything,  describes  King  Charles  at  this 
meeting  as  dressed  in  great  cavalry  boots,  black  neck- 
cloth, coarse  blue  coat  with  its  gilded  copper  buttons, 
and  the  long  sword  which  he  carried  at  Narva  and 
upon  the  hilt  of  which  he  often  leaned.  And  then  he 
says  that  King  Charles  told  his  guest  that  for  six 
years  he  had  not  taken  off  his  boots  excepting  when 
he  went  to  bed,  and  not  even  then  if  the  enemy  was  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  that  the  conversation  was  of  this 
character, — a libel  which  greatly  offends  the  honest 
Nordberg.  But  of  King  August  it  is  said  that  he  was 
the  most  finished  courtier  of  his  time,  and  knew  how 
to  preserve  the  most  cheerful  countenance  and  the 
most  unaffected  courtesy,  even  when  his  heart  was  filled 
with  sorrow,  anxiety,  and  suppressed  rage. 

In  commemoration  of  this  meeting  a medal  was 
struck  having  on  it  the  busts  of  the  two  kings,  and 
the  inscription:  “ The  heroes  whose  military  renown 
mounted  to  the  stars,  agree  to  the  desired  peace,  and 
meet  at  Altranstadt  December  17th,  1706.”  The  medal 
as  well  as  the  meeting  was  something  for  the  world  to 
look  at ; nothing  more.  Anger  continued  to  seethe  in 
the  breast  of  August;  Charles’s  inflexible  will  did  not 
give  a hair’s  breath;  the  humiliation  and  the  victory 
both  alike  remained,  and  the  peace  at  Altranstadt 
was  an  armistice,  during  which  the  two  adversaries 
prepared  for  new  contests. 

This  winter  in  Saxony,  1706-7,  was  the  culminating 
point  in  the  brilliant  military  career  of  the  Swedish 
hero.  Two  kings  whose  crowns  he  had  taken  or  given 
away  did  him  homage ; twenty  princes,  future  mon- 
archs  and  foreign  ambassadors,  thronged  about  this 
feared  youth  who  had  been  victorious  in  six  successive 


94 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


campaigns.  Marlborough,  the  contemporary  hero  of 
the  great  Eugene,  came  to  learn  of  Charles  “ what  he 
had  not  yet  gathered  of  the  art  of  war.”  Many  noble 
Swedish  ladies  had  journeyed  thither  from  Stockholm 
to  meet  their  husbands.  The  splendor  of  the  court 
mingled  its  shimmer  with  the  gleam  of  arms.  The 
Swedish  army,  in  which  many  Finns  also  fought,  num- 
bered 16,000  cavalry  and  more  than  19,000  infantry; 
no  army  in  Europe  could  compete  with  it  in  military 
experience,  bravery,  discipline,  and  confidence  of  vic- 
tory. 

At  this  time,  in  February,  1707,  a little  Swedish 
company  of  ten  dragoons  and  as  many  grooms  leading 
extra  horses,  and,  besides  these,  twelve  or  fifteen  hun- 
ters with  their  packs  of  hounds,  marched  slowly  towards 
the  draw-bridge  of  the  castle  of  Liebeverda  on  the 
banks  of  the  Elster.  It  was  twilight  when  they  arrived, 
and  their  coming  seemed  not  to  be  unexpected,  for  a 
part  of  the  attendants  at  the  castle  immediately  came 
to  meet  them,  and  conducted  the  frozen  huntsmen  into 
warm  rooms,  where  tables  were  spread  with  smoking 
roasts,  and  provided  with  great  goblets  of  both  ale  and 
wine. 

The  officer  who  led  the  expedition  brushed  the 
wood-lichens  from  his  blue  riding-dress,  and  was  con- 
ducted into  a brilliantly  lighted  hall,  where  a consider- 
able company  were  still  assembled  after  the  long-con- 
tinued dinner.  Coming  in  hungry  and  cold,  it  did  not 
escape  his  attention  that  the  company  had  been  drink- 
ing, but  there  was  also  still  left  the  trace  of  a ceremoni- 
ous respect,  with  which  the  assembled  drinking  cham- 
pions held  themselves  at  a distance  from  one  particular 
person,  whose  handsome  and  knightly  figure  showed 
at  the  first  glance  that  he  was  of  noble  birth  and  ac- 
customed to  command. 

This  man,  who  was  the  center  of  the  gay  company, 
was  no  other  than  the  elector  of  Saxony,  now  ex-king 
of  Poland,  and  the  dark  man  at  his  side,  with  the  inqui- 


THE  BLUE, 


95 


sitive  look,  was  his  renowned  field-marshal,  the  con- 
queror of  Diinamude,  General  Fleming. 

The  Swedish  officer  stepped  forward  with  a res- 
pectful salute,  gave  his  name  and  delivered  his  message: 
that  his  master  King  Charles  would  not  fail  to  come  to 
the  castle  the  next  morning,  to  take  part  in  the  great 
chase  to  which  his  majesty  was  invited,  and  also  that 
the  king’s  hunters  and  hounds  under  the  care  of  the 
messenger  had  been  sent  thither  beforehand. 

The  Swedish  messenger  was  a young  man,  little 
more  than  twenty  years  old,  but  tall  and  broad-should- 
ered. The  ex-king  scrutinized  him  a moment  with  the 
eye  of  a connoiseur,  frowned  as  he  noticed  the  skill 
with  which  the  Swede,  with  all  respect  otherwise, 
avoided  giving  him  the  title  of  “ majesty,”  but  quickly 
resumed  his  obliging  and  complaisant  mien;  was  glad 
that  King  Charles  would  honor  his  hunt,  and  finally 
asked  the  newly-arrived  guest  to  take  a place  at  the 
table.  “ I have  been  told,”  added  the  elector,  with 
ready  memory,  “ I have  been  told  that  Count  Bertel- 
skold  was  a valiant  participant  in  my  royal  friend’s 
bear-hunts.  It  will  be  an  honor  to  the  wild  boars  of 
Saxony  to  be  laid  low  by  so  experienced  an  adversary.” 

Gustaf  Bertelskold — it  was  he  who  bore  the  king’s 
message — was  too  little  experienced  as  a talker  to  reply 
to  this  civility.  Therefore,  with  a silent  bow,  he  took 
the  appointed  place. 

After  the  short  interruption  occasioned  by  the  mes- 
sage from  King  Charles,  the  carousal  proceeded  with 
a zeal  and  after  a fashion  which  in  our  day  would  be 
little  suited  to  the  presence  of  a sovereign  prince.  But 
the  chivalric  August  knew  equally  well  how  to  conduct 
carousals  and  love  affairs,  the  coarsest  raillery  and  the 
most  exquisite  gallantry.  How  two  crowned  heads  had 
several  years  before  rioted  at  Birsen!  And  here  at 
Liebeverda  the  wild  boar’s  funeral  banquet  was  cele- 
brated in  advance  with  an  energy  which  in  no  slight 
degree  reminded  one  of  the  natural  disposition  of  the 


96 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


animal  for  whose  destruction  they  now  prepared  them- 
selves. There  was  no  deception  in  the  beakers  emptied 
by  that  circle  of  hunters,  and  it  was  a lawful  and  loyal 
custom  that  as  soon  as  the  elector  raised  the  bowl  to 
his  lips,  all  the  guests  were  bound  to  do  the  same,  and 
between  times  freely  to  remember  the  sparkling  grape 
as  often  as  they  pleased. 

By  degrees  the  wine  cup’s  evening  red  rose  higher 
on  the  cheeks  of  those  assembled,  and  the  conversation 
became  louder,  and  there  were  not  wanting  travesties 
of  the  dubious  stories  from  the  court  chronicles  of  that 
time,  which  are  found  collected  in  that  remarkable  book 
“ La  Saxe  Galante which  was  published  in  Amsterdam 
in  1736,  in  four  hundred  and  sixteen  large  octavo 
pages,  with  a shameless  vignette  and  a motto  that  suited 
it : Vis  inita  major.  There  were  not  wanting,  either, 
strange  stories  of  the  elector’s  youth,  not  forgetting 
among  them  the  bull-fight  at  Madrid,  where  he,  then 
prince  of  Saxony,  made  his  debdt  with  a success  which 
was  dangerous  to  the  hearts  of  the  Spanish  beauties. 

On  King  August — why  deny  him  a title  that  he 
afterwards  regained  ? — these  memories  did  not  fail  to 
have  an  enlivening  influence.  Smiling,  he  took  a silver 
plate  from  the  table,  and  quite  easily,  without  apparent 
effort,  bent  it  to  a roll  between  his  hand,  and  then  tossed 
it  as  drink-money  to  a servant. 

Loud  cries  of  bravo  followed  this  princely  achieve- 
ment, and  the  example  challenged  imitation.  A heavy- 
limbed  Saxon  cavalry  captain  took  out  a copper  coin, 
turned  the  table-cloth  aside,  laid  the  piece  upon  the 
bare  table,  and  with  a single  blow  of  his  clenched  fist 
drove  it  so  deep  into  the  oaken  board  that  it  stuck  fast. 
New  shouts  of  applause  immediately  interpreted  the 
general  admiration. 

The  king,  more  and  more  animated,  had  several 

* This  book  was  a rich  mine  for  Prof.  Palmblad  in  writing  his  historical 
romance  “Aurora  Konigsmark,”  certain  parts  of  which  are  composed  with 
great  talent,  while  other  parts,  not  without  reason,  are  classed  as  “vile  litera- 
ture.” 


THE  BLUE. 


97 


horse-shoes  brought  in.  He  inspected  them  carefully, 
laid  some  of  them  aside,  and  finally  selected  one,  which 
he  passed  around  the  company,  that  everyone  might 
be  convinced  that  the  shoe  was  whole  and  strong,  and 
had  not  the  least  flaw.  Then  he  stood  up,  took  the  iron 
shoe  in  his  hands  and  opened  it  slowly  two  or  three 
times.  The  third  time  the  shoe  broke  just  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  curve  in  two  equal  pieces,  which  the  king 
triumphantly  held  out,  one  in  each  hand,  as  a proof 
that  neither  wine  nor  love  had  softened  his  muscles — 
harder  yet  than  the  iron  itself. 

Enthusiasm  was  now  at  its  height.  All  the  goblets 
were  filled  and  emptied,  and  filled  and  emptied  again,  in 
honor  of  “the  modern  Hercules,  the  flower  of  the  chiv- 
alry of  his  time,  the  invincible,  in  strength  and  grace 
alike  the  irresistible  prince  and  lord  elector  of  Saxony 
and  king  of  Poland  (all  honor  to  the  peace),  who  breaks 
iron  and  hearts  . . . .” 

“And  shall  one  day  break  all  his  enemies’  weapons 
as  he  breaks  this  horse-shoe,  in  spite  of  twenty  snow- 
kings,”  interrupted  the  Saxon  cavalry  captain,  moved 
thereto  by  the  wine  and  the  acclaiming  shout,  and  giv- 
ing no  heed  to  the  king’s  frowning  glances. 

Gosta  Bertelskold  arose  to  go  ; — the  only  answer  he 
considered  appropriate  to  the  occasion. 

But  the  captain  stationed  himself  in  his  way. 
“ Upon  my  honor,”  said  he,  “ I believe  the  little 
Swedish  count  is  afraid  of  us.  Gently,  gently,  my 
young  friend  ; your  delicate  virgin-fingers  would  cer- 
tainly never  break  a horse-shoe  in  two.  Drink, 
— drink  I say,  to  the  health  of  his  majesty,  the  King 
of  Poland  ! Mort  de  ma  vie , the  Swedish  boy  has  not 
emptied  a single  honest  beaker  yet  ! ” 

Young  Gosta’s  hand  went  to  his  sword-hilt  ; it  was 
seldom  far  from  the  hand  to  the  sword  in  those  days. 
But  at  the  right  moment  he  checked  himself,  seized  the 
goblet,  and  draining  it  to  the  last  drop,  said,  with  a 

G 5 


98 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


ready  comprehension  befitting  a more  experienced 
soldier  : 

“At  the  request  of  this  gentleman,  I drink  to  the 
prosperity  of  his  majesty,  King  Stanislaus.  May  he  live 
long  and  reign  happily.” 

Scarcely  was  this  said,  before  one  of  the  Polish 
noblemen  present  drew  his  sword  and  placed  himself 
defiantly  before  the  bold  Carolin. 

“ Draw!  ” shouted  he,  “ or  by  the  walls  of  Cracow, 
I will  write  this  toast,  letter  for  letter,  in  red  upon  your 
blue  coat!  ” 

“ Calm  yourself,  Wielopolski,”  interrupted  King 
August  in  a commanding  tone  ; probably  he  considered 
it  high  time  to  end  a scene  which  might  lead  to  dan- 
gerous results.  “ Lobenstein,  remember  that  the  count 
is  our  guest.  Gentlemen,  why  waste  time  in  needless 
quarreling  ? If  Count  Bertelskold  drank  to  Stanislaus 
Leczinski,  that  is  his  own  affair,  as  it  was  yours  to  drink 
to  me.  Let  us  rather  ask  him  if  in  the  Swedish  camp 
they  do  not  amuse  themselves  with  any  interesting  ex- 
periments of  the  kind  that  we  have  just  been  having. 
The  Swedes  are  hard-handed  as  well  as  brave.  I wager 
that  the  young  count  will  not  refuse  you  an  answer,  my 
dear  Lobenstein.” 

“ If  my  honored  host  will  permit,  I will  attempt 
something  that  is  customary  with  us,”  answered  Bertel- 
skold, as  his  hand  for  the  second  time  slipped  from  his 
sword. 

“Yes,  do  so,  my  dear  count  ; you  will  thus  do  me 
a great  favor,”  replied  the  king,  glad  to  turn  the  quar- 
rel into  a pleasant  jest. 

“Yes,  by  all  means,  show  us  what  your  fashion  is  !” 
joined  in  the  bystanders,  with  a rather  palpable  irony, 
convinced  as  they  were  that  after  an  August  II  and  a 
Lobenstein,  the  young  man  would  make  a failure. 

Bertelskold  looked  about  him  a moment  without  re- 
plying. Then  he  suddenly  seized  Lobenstein  with  his 
right  hand  and  Wielopolski  with  his  left,  raised  them 


THE  BLUE . 


99 


both  up  at  once,  held  the  sprawling  gentlemen  at  arm’s 
length,  and  bore  them  thus,  in  spite  of  their  opposition, 
twice  around  the  table,  and  with  perfect  solemnity  sat 
them  down  at  the  feet  of  the  astonished  king. 

Not  a single  bravo  was  heard  this  time  from  the 
lips  of  the  amazed  champions,  but  their  silence  gave 
better  evidence  than  their  previous  shouts  had  done,  of 
the  impression  made  upon  them  by  this  exhibition  of 
immense  physical  strength. 

The  Polander  and  the  Saxon  hardly  felt  their  feet 
on  a firm  bottom  before  they,  beside  themselves  with 
wine  and  wrath,  rushed  with  drawn  swords  at  Bertel- 
skold. 

The  king’s  authority  came  near  being  insufficient. 
He  finally  succeeded  in  bringing  Lobenstein  to  his 
senses,  but  Wielopolski  shrieked  at  the  top  of  his  voice 
that  he  was  not  going  to  allow  himself  to  be  insulted 
by  either  Swede  or  Saxon.  He  was  a free-born  repub- 
lican and  nobleman  ; the  king  should  be  careful  about 
insulting  noble  Polish  blood  ; every  Polish  nobleman 
was  as  good  as  he,  and  perhaps  a trifle  better ; the 
Poles  had  done  him  the  honor  of  choosing  him  king, 
but  such  kings  could  be  found  by  the  dozen  in  every 
neighborhood  ; the  Diet  should  hear  of  his  behavior. 

August  seemed  for  a moment  to  be  disconcerted  ; 
his  countenance  quickly  cleared,  he  took  Wielopolski 
several  steps  aside  and  whispered  in  his  ear.  This  had 
its  effect.  The  Polander  kept  silence,  looked  now  at 
the  king,  now  at  Bertelskold  with  sullen  and  suspicious 
mien,  and  left  the  hall  with  a haughty  and  defiant 
bearing. 

“ Gentlemen,”  said  the  king,  “ I hope  none  of  you 
will  pay  any  attention  to  this  insignificant  contention. 
To-morrow  has  in  store  for  us  a brilliant  display  of 
valor.  Let  us  now  take  a little  rest,  for  my  cup-bearer 
tells  me  that  many  noble  wine-vats  remain  in  Liebever- 
da’s  cellars.  Before  the  next  sun  goes  down  and  goes 
up,  we  will  see  the  bottom  of  them  ; and  I promise  you 


100 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


that  all  Germany  shall  be  astonished  at  our  achieve- 
ments. A pleasant  night,  gentlemen  ! ” 

With  a gracious  look  the  king  left  the  hall,  and  all 
the  guests  followed  him. 

Bertelskold  was  shown  to  a small  room  in  one  of 
the  castle  towers.  The  winter-night  was  cold,  and  the 
moon  shone  clear  over  the  snow-clad  ground.  The 
young  man  was  wakeful,  and  he  sat  for  a while  in  the 
window  and  contemplated  the  prospect.  Strange 
thoughts  ran  through  his  mind.  What  had  the  elector 
whispered  to  Wielopolski  ? And  what  did  it  mean 
that  “ all  Germany  should  be  astonished  ” at  the 
achievements  of  the  next  day  ? There  was  some- 
thing in  this  castle  that  did  not  exactly  please  Bertel- 
skold. 

In  a moment  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  ought  to  see 
whether  the  horses  were  well  provided  for  this  cold  winter 
night.  Perhaps  the  grooms  were  drunk  ; he  thought 
he  heard  Bogatir  neigh.  Therefore  he  left  his  room 
and  groped  his  way  down  the  steep  and  pitch-dark 
stairs. 

The  castle  was  a peculiar  building,  with  all  kinds  of 
winding  stairs  and  crooked  corridors.  When  Bertel- 
skold had  fumbled  in  the  darkness  long  enough  with- 
out finding  any  means  of  exit,  he  seized  the  first  door 
his  hand  touched.  This  led  to  an  ante-chamber  faintly 
lighted  by  a lamp.  Two  pages,  who  were  on  watch,  sat 
there  sound  asleep.  Bertelskold  shook  them,  to  try 
and  find  the  way  out  ; it  was  impossible,  the  fellows  had 
tippled  too  much,  and  they  half  waked  and  muttered  a 
drowsy  oath. 

Impatiently  he  went  further  on,  passing  one  empty 
room  and  then  another.  Then  he  heard  talking  in  the 
room  before  him,  and  he  stopped,  for  he  recognized  the 
king’s  voice  : 

“ But  if  he  escapes  . . . Sacre  dieu , if  he  es- 

capes ? No,  my  dear  Fleming,  no,  the  hazard  is  too 
great.  We  risk  getting  the  whole  swarm  upon  us  like 


THE  BLUE . 


10] 


wasps,  and  my  Cousin  Charles  would  never  forgive 

9 9 

me  .... 

“ Everything  is  carefully  considered,”  said  the  other 
voice.  “ Wielopolski,  with  his  hundred  horsemen,  will 
lie  in  wait  just  back  of  Konigsschlucht,  and  will  fall 
upon  him  Jehu-like.  It  can  not  fail.  Remember  that 
your  majesty  owes  Wielopolski  satisfaction  ; we  have  a 
scarcity  of  such  powerful  friends,  and  can  not  afford  to 
offend  them.  On  the  other  hand,  with  ‘ the  furious 
boy  ’ * behind  grates  and  bars  at  Konigstein,  your 
majesty  can  dictate  new  terms  of  peace.” 

“ But  what  will  Europe  say  of  it  ? ” 

“ Europe  always  takes  the  part  of  the  strongest. 
Besides,  your  majesty  is  entirely  innocent.  These 
crazy  Poles — a plundering  party — mounted  highway- 
men— let  not  your  majesty  be  disturbed  about  that.  I 
mentioned  Konigstein.  There  are  dungeons  there,  in 
which  a rival  in  power  as  well  as  a rival  in  love  may 
disappear  without  a trace.  Your  majesty,  this  arrogant 
Charles,  before  whom  Germany  trembles, — what  a re- 
venge, if  the  astonished  world  should  some  day  find 
that  he  had  disappeared  at  the  height  of  his  renown, 
disappeared  without  a trace,  like  a meteor  at  night,  and 
only  Konigstein’s  rats  and  spiders  could  tell  of  the  end 
of  his  mouldered  greatness  ! ” 

Bertelskold  heard  no  more.  His  eyes  grew  dim. 
Without  knowing  how,  he  got  out  into  the  castle  yard, 
found  Bogatir,  and  galloped  furiously  towards  the 
Swedish  camp,  where  he  arrived  after  a six  hours’  ride 
in  the  gray  of  the  morning.  This  ride  cost  him  a tried 
friend  ; it  was  too  hard  for  his  faithful  old  Bogatir. 
The  noble  animal  who  had  borne  his  master  through  so 
many  conflicts  and  so  many  dangers,  who  had  shared 
with  him  the  good  and  evil  of  seven  years,  this  faithful 
comrade  died  upon  his  sheaf  of  straw  a quarter  of  an 
hour  after  their  arrival.  Gosta  Bertelskold  patted  his 
neck  fondly,  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do.  “ Well  done, 


* Patkull’s  expression  for  King  Charles. 


102 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Bogatir,  well  done/’  said  he,  with  a tear  in  his  eye,  “ you 
have  died  for  our  king  ! ” 

But  of  this  he  had  now  no  time  to  think.  Gosta 
immediately  reported  to  Piper  what  he  had  heard. 
Piper  shook  his  head  distrustfully,  and  sent  him  to 
Lagerkrona.  Lagerkrona  took  the  matter  more 
seriously,  and  showed  an  intercepted  letter  in  which  a 
friend  wrote  to  Patkull  : “ Konig  August  gewinnt 

mehr  durch  eine  jagd  als  Konig  Carl  durch  eine 
Schlacht.” 

The  result  was  that  Piper  and  Lagerkrona  united  in 
the  most  earnest  prayers  that  the  king  would  forego  his 
journey  to  Liebeverda.  The  horses  were  already 
saddled.  King  Charles  listened  sadly  to  his  friends’ 
advice.  In  what  other  case  would  he  have  obeyed 
them  ? But  he  had  begun  to  suspect  his  friend,  King 
August,  and  nothing  could  dispel  the  suspicion.  These 
princes  were  more  distinctly  opposites  in  character  and 
disposition  than  they  were  in  politics.  King  August 
worthily  represented  the  faithless  statemanship  and 
gilded  vices  of  his  time,  while  his  Swedish  opponent 
stood  before  his  astonished  contemporaries  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  old-fashioned  virtues  and  the  chivalric 
fidelity  of  the  past. 

King  Charles  listened  this  time  also  to  prudent 
counsel,  and  sent  Lagerkrona  in  his  stead  to  Liebever- 
da with  the  king’s  compliments,  and  to  say  that  he  had 
been  prevented  from  joining  them.  History  omits  to 
mention  with  what  mien  King  August  and  his  faithful 
followers  received  this  news,  but  it  is  probable  that 
they  wore  rather  long  faces. 

Eight  months  afterwards,  when  the  Swedish  army 
decamped  from  Saxony,  it  happened  that  King  August 
sat  en  dishabille  one  afternoon  in  his  country  castle,  near 
the  gates  of  Dresden,  when  King  Charles,  accompanied 
by  several  officers,  entered  quite  unexpectedly  to  pay 
his  devoirs  to  his  royal  cousin,  and  to  thank  him  for  the 
invitation  to  Liebeverda.  Both  August  and  his  minis- 


THE  BLUE, 


103 


ters  were  completely  put  out  of  countenance,  and  did 
not  know  what  they  ought  to  do.  King  Charles  this 
time  was  as  discreet  as  he  was  brave ; he  did  not  leave 
his  dangerous  hosts  for  a minute  out  of  sight  ; he  gave 
them  no  time  for  any  kind  of  agreement.  The  king 
said  afterwards  that  in  Fleming’s  eyes  he  read  thoughts 
that  were  not  friendly.  But  everything  passed  off  cour- 
teously on  both  sides.  On  King  Charles’s  return,  he 
found  his  whole  army  in  confusion  ; they  thought  he 
had  been  taken  prisoner  ; they  were  making  plans  to 
set  him  at  liberty.  Unnecessary  fear  ! King  Charles’s 
good-fortune  was  still  irresistible.  The  next  day,  King 
August  and  his  ministers  held  a consultation  in  regard 
to  what  they  ought  to  have  done  the  day  before. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  EVENING  BEFORE  PULTOWA. 

KING  CHARLES  sat  one  evening  in  his  head- 
quarters before  Pultowa,  a cannon-shot  from 
the  city,  and  quite  near  the  Swedish  approaches.  His 
headquarters  had  lately  been  a simple  Cossack  hut, 
situated  at  the  foot  of  a sand-hill  ; its  walls  bore  the 
marks  of  Russian  balls,  which  every  day  tore  splinters 
off  its  sides  and  corners.  The  king  had  been  forced  to 
shift  his  quarters  to  a deserted  cloister  in  the  vicinity. 

The  king  was  very  pale.  He  had  himself  just  taken 
away  a little  piece  of  bone  which  worked  out  of  his 
wounded  left  foot.  The  ball,  which  lodged  in  the  great 
toe,  had  been  extracted,  but  little  pieces  of  bone  were 
still  taken  away  every  day,  and  the  king  had  never 
winced.  None  of  the  generals  were  present.  His 
butler,  Hultman,  to  dispel  his  master’s  uneasiness, 


104 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


continued  his  story  of  the  West  Gothland  Prince 
Gotrik’s  adventures. 

At  last  the  king  became  impatient,  and  cut  short  his 
faithful  servant. 

“ Do  you  believe  in  charms  and  tokens  ? ” he  asked, 
as  Hultman  had  just  been  describing  King  Gotrik’s 
charmed  coat  of  mail. 

The  butler  was  silent. 

‘‘Answer  me,  man,  do  you  believe  in  charms  ? ” re- 
peated the  king,  more  vehemently  than  was  his  wont. 

“ I believe  in  God  alone,”  answered  the  servant, 
after  some  deliberation.  “ But  if  God  so  permits,  it  is 
indeed  possible  that  sorcery  can  do  some  harm,  but  never 
any  real  good  as  we  know  concerning  Gotrik  . . . 

“Who  is  talking  of  sorcery  ?”  continued  the  king 
in  the  same  tone.  “ I mean  only  such  a memento  as 
one  may  have  of  one  dear  to  him- — for  example  a 
mother — and  which  he  has  carried  from  his  youth,  and 
which  has  a blessing  with  it,  because  it  is  a godly 
memento,  and  not  of  evil,  but  of  Christ-like  love.  Do 
you  believe  that  such  a souvenir  is  lucky  ? ” 

“ I do  not  perfectly  understand  what  my  gracious 
master  means.” 

“ I will  tell  you  something,  Hultman  ; it  has  some- 
times of  late  seemed  strange  to  me  that  I,  only  last 
autumn,  should  lose  the  blessed  queen’s  locket.  It  con- 
tained her  miniature  and  a lock  of  her  hair.  When  we 
took  to  the  field,  the  countess  had  a little  copper  ring 
attached  to  the  locket  for  a loop.  The  twentieth  of 
September  we  had  a battle  at  Rajovka  ; it  went  rather 
hard  with  us  there;  I was  that  day  in  a bad  humor  ; I 
was  compelled  to  deceive  the  Cossacks.  I lost  my 
horse;  it  was  a fight  for  life.  It  was  an  unlucky  day, 
Hultman  ; Harden  fell  ; in  that  struggle  I lost  the 
sainted  queen’s  locket.” 

“ My  gracious  master,  do  not  lay  it  so  to  heart.  It 
may  be  the  medallion  will  be  found  again.  Everybody 
knows  the  queen’s  likeness.” 


THE  BLUE . 


105 


“ I do  not  think  so;  but  there  is  something — I have 
a fever,  nothing  else.  When  can  I mount  a horse 
again  ? ” 

“ Will  not  my  gracious  master  tell  me  what  lies  so 
heavy  on  his  heart  ? Some  cure  may  be  found.” 

“Only  foolishness.  God  help  us,  man  is  a frail 
being.  It  occurs  to  me  sometimes  that  everything 
turned  out  well  as  long  as  I had  the  locket.  Just  before, 
we  had  defeated  the  Russians  at  Holofzin — was  it  there 
that  the  sun  went  down  upon  my  good  fortune  ? Ever 
since,  adversity  after  adversity  . . . .” 

“ My  gracious  master  could  not  know  beforehand 
that  the  winter  would  be  so  incomparably  severe  from 
the  last  of  September,  that  many  of  our  men  would  be 
frozen  to  death  and  the  rest  enfeebled.  My  gracious 
master  could  not  calculate  upon  the  battle  of  Liesna, 
which  lost  the  army  its  stores  and  the  lives  of  so  many 
honest  soldiers  . . . .” 

“ Who  told  you  that  I could  not,  that  I ought  not 
to  have  foreseen  all  this  ? But  it  is  too  late.  If  only 
that  infamous  ball  had  not  massacred  my  foot ! I have 
gone  unharmed  through  so  many  hard  struggles  before 
this,  that, — Hultman,  say  not  a word  of  what  I have 
told  you.  It  is  all  foolishness.  The  fever  has  con- 
fused my  brain.  All  will  be  right  again  if  God  only 
gives  me  health.  Who  comes  there  ? ” 

Field-marshal  Count  Rehnskold  entered  without 
being  announced.  Hultman  was  allowed  to  retire  at 
once.  And  there  was  no  longer  seen  a wounded  and 
suffering  man,  his  soul  consumed  with  anxiety,  one  who 
in  a moment  of  human  weakness,  from  which  not  one 
of  the  greatest  is  absolved,  reveals  to  a faithful  servant 
the  secret  cares  concealed  in  his  reserved  mind, — but 
only  the  royal  hero,  the  conqueror,  the  invincible,  who 
never  yet  turned  aside  and  never  intended  to  turn  aside 
for  any  danger.  King  Charles  received  his  commander- 
in-chief  as  calmly  and  proudly  as  the  day  after  Narva 
or  Holofzin. 


106 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“ Your  majesty/’ said  Rehnskold,  “ the  czar  is  cross- 
ing the  river  just  above  the  town.  Without  doubt,  he 
knows  of  your  majesty’s  wound,  and  expects  to  find  the 
army  disheartened.” 

“ It  is  well,”  replied  the  king,  “ he  will  find  it  the 
harder  to  get  over  the  river  again.” 

“ But  the  suspicion  has  some  ground.  It  is  talked 
among  the  soldiers  that  your  majesty  diligently  seeks 
death,  since  there  is  no  deliverance  for  any  of  us.” 

“ It  is  nothing.  The  first  victory  will  show  them 
that  they  talk  to  the  wind.” 

“ I cannot  conceal  from  your  majesty  that  our 
position  becomes  every  day  more  critical.  The  enemy’s 
light  troops  swarm  around  us  on  every  side,  and  tire  us 
out  with  watching  them  night  and  day.  The  siege  does 
not  advance.  The  Wallachians  and  the  Saporogians 
are  deserting  in  crowds  to  the  Russians.” 

“ Rehnskold,  we  shall  fight ! ” 

“ I ought  to  add  that  we  have  a scarcity  of  powder 
and  lead.  The  guns  have  such  light  charges,  that  the 
report  is  like  striking  together  a pair  of  gloves,  and  the 
balls  are  not  thrown  more  than  thirty  paces.  In  the 
meantime,  the  Russians  daily  gain  military  experience 
and  courage.  The  czar  is  untiring  ; he  is  unfolding  a 
well  studied  plan  for  our  destruction.  He  has  devastated 
his  country  to  stop  our  advance  ; he  will  avoid  no  sac- 
rifice for  our  complete  annihilation.” 

“ Rehnskold,  we  shall  fight  ! ’’ 

“ Before  us  we  have  a fortification  not  yet  reduced  ; 
around  us  an  army  of  fifty  thousand  men,  without 
reckoning  the  entire  population  of  the  country,  who 
regard  us  as  heathens,  and  who  would  cast  themselves 
upon  us  furiously  if  we  should  be  defeated.” 

“ Rehnskold,  we  shall  fight ! ” 

“ If  your  majesty  commands.  I have  never  feared 
battle,  neither  do  I see  any  other  means  of  escape. 
It  is  all  Lewenhaupt’s  fault  that  we  got  into  this  situa- 
tion.” 


THE  BLUE . 


107 


“ Field-marshal,  you  can  reserve  your  censures. 
Who  was  it  that  counseled  me  to  hasten  the  march  from 
Mohllew,  where  I intended  to  await  Lewenhaupt  ? Who 
was  it  who  continually,  and  against  the  warnings  of 
Piper  and  others,  advocated  this  expedition  to  Ukraine, 
and  persuaded  me  that  the  Cossack’s  assurances  could 
be  relied  on  ? It  was  you,  Count  Rehnskold,  you  who 
now  turn  the  responsibility  from  yourself  to  another.” 

“ Not  I,”  answered  the  field-marshal,  proudly — 
“ not  I,  but  your  majesty’s  own  will,  which  prevailed 
over  all  others,  and  your  immovable  confidence  of  con- 
tinued victory  wherever  our  weapons  might  be  turned. 
This  has  brought  us  to  Pultowa;  God  grant  it  may  take 
us  well  away  from  here.” 

King  Charles  glanced  sullenly  at  the  bold  subject 
who  made  use  of  language  hitherto  unknown  in  the 
Swedish  camp. 

“ It  looks  like  the  evening  before  a defeat,”  he  said 
at  last,  sad  as  never  before. 

“ The  future  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Most  High,” 
answered  the  field-marshal.  “ Whatever  the  result  may 
be,  your  majesty’s  army  will  fight  as  it  always  has 
fought.” 

“ Good,  Rehnskold,  good  ! ” said  the  king,  again 
appeased.  “ In  God’s  name  then.  No  moment  is  to 
be  neglected.  Now  or  never.  To-morrow  we  fight.” 

“Your  majesty — the  day  will  settle  for  the  century 
the  dominion  of  the  North.  To-morrow?” 

“ To-morrow.” 

“ I go  to  execute  your  majesty’s  commands.” 

“ Rehnskold,  give  me  your  hand.  It  does  not 
tremble  ? ” 

“ It  has  never  trembled,  your  majesty  ! ” 

“ Good.  To-morrow  we  open  the  road  to  Moscow.” 

“ Or,  Croesus  like,  we  destroy  a great  kingdom,” 
muttered  the  field-marshal  to  himself.  • 


108 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
pultowa’s  setting  sun. 

OW  it  had  come,  absolutely  come — the  day  that 


_L>  was  to  decide  the  fate  of  the  North,  per- 
haps that  of  Europe.  The  lion  and  the  double- 
headed eagle  were  to  finish  their  long,  heroic  conflict. 
The  two  greatest  men  the  North  had  ever  produced 
were  to  meet  in  single  combat,  to  struggle  for  life  or 
death.  This  day  would  bear  one  of  them  to  the  shores 
of  the  Baltic,  or  the  other  to  the  walls  of  the  old  Krem- 
lin. Narva’s  honor  will  never  die  ; Pultowa’s  echo 
never  be  silenced.  Holofzin  and  Smolensk — Pultowa 
and  Borodino  ; defeat  has  in  all  ages  marched  in  at  vic- 
tory’s gate. 

Lewenhaupt,  Charles  XII’s  greatest  general,  was 
one  of  the  last  to  learn  what  the  king  and  Rehnskold 
had  determined,  the  rest  of  the  command  not  being 
consulted.  Rehnskold  was  personally  exasperated  with 
the  general  ; besides,  the  whole  conduct  of  the  brave 
field-marshal  that  day  had  been  a riddle.  The  pre- 
parations went  on  as  if  for  a feast,  not  for  a day  that 
was  to  decide  the  fate  of  centuries. 

The  whole  Swedish  army,  sick  and  wounded  in- 
cluded, consisted  of  about  twenty  thousand  men,  to 
which  were  added  twelve  thousand  Cossacks  and  Poles 
under  Mazeppa  and  Poniotovski.  Among  these  twenty 
thousand  were  the  following  Finnish  troops  : 

1.  Abo  province’s  cavalry  regiment,  eight  squad- 
rons, under  Major  von  Holden, who  was  afterward  taken 
prisoner. 

2.  Nyland’s  cavalry,  eight  ditto,  under  Col.  Count 
Anders  Torstenson  (killed). 


THE  BLUE . 


109 


3.  Karel’s  cavalry  regiment,  eight  ditto,  under  Col. 
Loschern  von  Hertfelt  (captured). 

4.  BJomeborg’s  infantry,  two  battalions,  under 
Major-general  Baron  Stackelberg  and  Major  Willebrand 
(both  captured). 

5.  Abo  province’s  battalion,  under  Lieut.  Col.  Sin- 
clair (captured). 

6.  Nyland’s  battalion,  under  Lieut.  Col.  Nodee 
(captured). 

7.  Osterbotten’s  battalion,  under  Lieut.  Col.  De  la 
Gardie  (killed). 

8.  Bjorneborg’s  triple  regiment,  two  battalions, 
under  Col.  Wrangel  (killed). 

All  these,  as  well  as  the  Swedish  regiments,  were  so 
consolidated  with  each  other  that  many  battalions  did 
not  reckon  much  over  two  hundred,  and  many  squad- 
rons hardly  fifty  men.  According  to  an  approximate 
calculation,  there  were  from  two  thousand  six  hundred 
to  three  thousand  Finns  at  Pultowa.  Before  that,  many 
had  fallen  at  Liesna.  As  six  thousand  men  must  be 
left  in  the  trenches  and  to  protect  the  artillery,  there  re- 
mained not  more  than  about  twelve  thousand  Swedish 
and  Finnish  troops  to  take  part  in  the  decisive  struggle. 

The  evening  before  the  battle,  the  king  showed 
himself  before  his  brave  men.  He  was  borne  upon  a 
hand-barrow,  with  one  boot  on  and  his  sword  in  his 
hand.  After  he  had  finished  his  round,  they  sat  him 
down  on  the  ground  ; generals  and  colonels  threw  them- 
selves down  around  him  for  a few  hours  rest.  The  camp 
became  still ; only  the  sentry’s  call  and  the  low  sigh  of 
the  distant  river  Worskla  broke  the  silence  of  the  camp 
or  disturbed  the  warriors’  dreams,  as  they,  far  from 
their  fatherland,  slept  around  their  king,  the  next  night 
perhaps  to  sleep  in  death. 

No  Tegner  has  sung  this  night,  neither  has  any  sung 
the  day  which  followed.  The  fates,  sad  and  silent, 
looked  down  upon  the  Carolins’  last  dreams  of  victory. 

Immediately  after  midnight,  June  28,  1709,  Rehn- 


110 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


skold’s  voice  was  heard  ordering  the  breaking  up  of 
the  camp.  The  troops  fell  into  the  ranks  in  the  dark- 
ness, and  not  without  some  confusion.  The  Russian 
camp  was  silent  as  the  grave  ; only  far  from  the  town 
were  heard  the  axes  of  those  at  work  upon  the  Russian 
fortifications. 

Two  of  the  king’s  attendants,  Gustaf  Bertelskold 
and  Erik  Falkenberg,  both  promoted  to  the  rank  of 
captain  in  the  king’s  body  guard,  after  the  battle  of 
Holofzin,  exchanged  a few  words  of  parting  in  the 
morning  darkness. 

“ If  I fall,”  said  Falkenberg,  “bear  my  greeting  to 
your  sister,  and  tell  her  that  I have  fallen  for  my  king 
and  my  country,  with  her  image  in  my  heart  to  the 
last.” 

“And  if  I fall,”  responded  Bertelskold,  “greet your 
sister  from  me  with  the  same  words,  and  add  thereto 
that  the  book  of  victories  was  untarnished  to  the  last, 
although  many  leaves  remained  unwritten.” 

Now  the  drums  were  beaten  in  the  Russian  camp, 
and  the  report  was  received  that  the  czar  had  drawn  up 
his  army  between  the  fortifications,  protected  by  one 
hundred  and  thirty  cannons,  and  with  Pultowa  as  a point 
of  support.  The  right  wing  was  lead  by  Bauer,  the 
left  by  Menschikoff ; the  center  by  the  czar  himself,  and 
under  him  Schermatoff. 

The  Swedish  infantry,  led  by  Lewenhaupt,  received 
orders  to  charge  the  Russian  redoubts.  This  was  done 
without  cannons,  and  almost  without  muskets,  for  there 
was  a lack  of  powder,  and  the  troops  were  obliged  to 
form  under  the  fire  of  the  enemy.  In  spite  of  all  this 
“ the  blues  ” charged  with  naked  swords,  and  in  the  first 
assault  took  two  redoubts.  Menschikoff  did  all  that  a 
brave  chief  could  ; three  horses  fell  under  him.  But 
nothing  could  stay  the  advance  of  those  who  were  mak- 
ing the  charge. 

Now  the  Swedish  cavalry,  under  Hamilton,  Kruse, 
Schlippenbock,  and  Creutz,  rode  forward  to  attack  the 


THE  BLUE. 


Ill 


Russians.  The  latter  wavered,  were  on  the  point  of 
falling  into  confusion,  and  of  being  chased  into  the 
Worskla  or  into  a morass.  As  of  old,  victory  smiled 
on  the  Swedish  standard,  and  Pultowa’s  norns  first 
showed  a wrinkled  brow  to  Russia’s  Peter. 

Then  arose  among  the  Swedish  commanders  that 
inborn  jealousy  which  afterwards  produced  1714,  1742, 
1788,  1809,  and  which  now  brought  forth  1709. 

In  the  very  moment  of  victory,  with  the  first  step  of 
success,  everything  gave  way  and  went  to  pieces  from 
a lack  of  unity  and  cooperation,  through  the  ab- 
sence of  a clear,  guiding  eye  to  take  in  the  situation 
and  master  events.  Accounts  contradict  each  other  ; 
most  of  them  roll  the  whole  burden  of  the  vast  respon- 
sibility upon  Rehnskold,  but  all  explain  this  by  saying 
that  King  Charles’s  strong  spirit  was  paralyzed,  and  no 
longer  went  like  a heath-fire  before  the  ranks  of  “ the 
blue.”  On  the  other  hand,  the  Russian  defense,  or- 
dered by  the  masterly  will  of  the  czar,  became  propor- 
tionately effective.  Mistakes  were  repaired,  individ- 
ual deficiencies  were  made  up  by  numbers,  everything 
worked  with  that  unity  which  is  the  presage  of  victory, 
and  finally  defense  turned  to  attack,  inchoate  ruin  to 
complete  triumph. 

Lewenhaupt  was  in  full  march  to  follow  up  his  first 
success,  when  he  received  orders  to  halt,  just  as  the 
Russian  ranks  began  to  waver  and  retreat  across  the 
stream.  The  result  of  this  order  was  a fatal  suspense. 
General  Roos,  intercepted  by  the  Russians,  approached 
Pultowa,  and  was  compelled,  after  a short  resistance,  to 
surrender.  Defective  oral  orders  increased  the  con- 
fusion. Never  had  such  a want  of  counsel  prevailed 
when  Charles  himself  had  the  command.  The  left  wing 
was  ordered  to  face  the  enemy,  while  at  the  same  time 
the  cavalry  was  drawn  back  from  the  wings  at  so  incon- 
venient a place  that  it  had  to  “ crowd  together  like 
boiled  rice.” 

“This  sight,”  says  Lewenhaupt  in  his  autobiography, 


112 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“ was  a dagger-thrust  to  me ; it  pierced  my  very  heart, 
for  the  enemy  had  three  times  our  strength,  and  flanked 
us  on  all  sides.” 

With  twelve  battalions,  in  all  four  thousand  men, 
Lewenhaupt  attacked  the  whole  of  the  enemy’s  infan- 
try, about  twenty  thousand  strong.  “ We  went,”  says 
the  field-marshal,  “ like  victims,  head  first  against  the 
wall.”  The  first  attack  was  irresistible,  and  made  a 
wide  breach  in  the  enemy’s  ranks.  But  the  breach  was 
soon  filled,  and  the  weak  Swedish  line,  unsupported  by 
the  cavalry,  was  outflanked.  Breaches  were  made,  the 
left  wing  was  cut  off  from  the  right,  surrounded, 
crushed  and  overrun.  Lewenhaupt  rode  to  the  right 
wing.  It  also  was  surrounded  by  fire,  crushed,  lost  and 
flying.  “ I set  myself,”  says  he,  “ with  sword  in  hand, 
against  them,  and  cut  and  slashed,  but  I could  not  stop 
them.  The  most  of  them  shouted  : ‘ Stand  ! Stand  ! ’ 
but  they  broke  and  ran  wherever  they  could.” 

During  this  time,  King  Charles  had  them  carry  him 
around  on  the  barrow  wherever  the  fire  was  hottest. 
Several  balls  had  struck  the  barrow  ; a horse  had  been 
shot  under  the  king,  who  in  his  impatience  attempted 
to  ride,  and  for  his  preservation  he  had  to  thank  a 
young  officer,  who,  wounded  himself,  had  given  him  his 
horse.  With  his  leg  laid  across  the  pommel  of  the  sad- 
dle, Lewenhaupt  met  him. 

“Are  you  still  alive  ? What  shall  we  do  next,  Lew- 
enhaupt ? ” 

Lewenhaupt  hastily  collected  the  remains  of  the  left 
wing  of  the  infantry  and  all  the  cavalry,  formed  around 
the  king,  and  retreated  upon  the  baggage. 

The  right  wing  defended  itself  still  longer,  with  a 
courage  worthy  of  a place  by  the  side  of  the  Carolins’ 
most  brilliant  exploits.  Among  the  many  incidents 
which  have  come  down  to  posterity,  the  Nyland  cavalry 
is  spoken  of.  At  the  head  of  this  gallant  troop,  the 
young  Count  Torstenson,  worthy  descendant  of  that 
great  name,  hewed  his  way  in  under  the  cover  of  the 


THE  BLUE. 


113 


redoubts  and  overthrew  them,  but,  left  without  support, 
he  fell,  and  with  him  the  greater  part  of  his  troops. 

The  Czar  Peter  also  knew  the  value  of  a victory, 
and  fought  with  great  personal  bravery.  Riding  a 
Turkish  horse,  a present  from  the  Sultan,  he  flew 
around  among  the  ranks  of  his  soldiers,  encouraging 
officers  and  men  to  do  their  duty  as  honest  warriors. 
His  hat  was  bored  through  by  a ball  when  he  was  try- 
ing to  restore  order  among  his  flying  cavalry.  Cath- 
erine Alexievna,  afterwards  Empress  of  Russia,  was 
assiduously  engaged  behind  the  contending  lines.  To 
the  weary  she  dispensed  spirits  and  bread;  to  the 
wounded,  bandages  and  medicine. 

By  degrees  the  strength  of  the  Carolins  failed. 
Many  of  their  bravest  heroes  lay  dying  on  Pultowa’s 
bloody  field.  A sally  from  the  city  completed  the 
overthrow.  Rehnskold,  Piper,  the  Prince  of  Wiirtem- 
berg,  Schlippenboch,  Roos,  and  several  other  general 
officers,  were  obliged  to  surrender.  The  loss  on  the 
side  of  the  Swedes,  in  dead,  wounded,  and  prisoners, 
was  reckoned  at  four  thousand  to  five  thousand  men; 
on  the  side  of  the  Russians  the  number  of  the  killed 
was  greater,  but  small  in  comparison  with  the  vast  im- 
portance of  the  victory. 

What  followed — the  sorrowful  retreat  with  the 
shreds  of  a defeated  army — it  was  easy  to  foresee. 
Two  days  after  the  battle,  June  30,  at  two  o’clock 
in  the  afternoon,  King  Charles  stood  with  the  re- 
mainder of  his  army  by  the  banks  of  the  Dnieper, 
“ in  a hole  where  one  might  keep  sheep  and  goats 
rather  than  protect  troops  against  a powerful  and  vic- 
torious enemy.”  Shut  in  by  the  opposing  force,  all 
strength  of  soul  and  body  spent,  raging  like  the  lion 
which  the  medal  shows  us  with  the  inscription  indocilis 
pati , the  defeated  but  not  subdued  hero  for  a long 
time  withstood  his  marshal’s  prayers  “ to  save  himself 
that  he  might  yet  save  Sweden.” 

Finally,  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  Russian 
H 5* 


114 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


army  had  already  shut  in  the  Swedish  army  at  the 
junction  of  the  Dnieper  and  the  Worskla,  the  king 
consented  to  be  borne  across  the  river,  accompanied 
by  one  thousand  of  his  faithful  men,  and  also  by 
Mazeppa  with  three  thousand  Cossacks,  thus  leaving 
with  a breaking  heart  that  faithful  army,  of  whom  it 
has  been  said  that  they  loved  victory  more  than  life, 
but  the  king  more  than  victory.  It  was  not  King 
Charles  who  acted  thus;  it  was  a broken  spirit,  to 
whom  they  said:  “Be  no  longer  a general;  be  a gov- 
ernor.,,  What  was  the  wiser  course,  let  history  decide. 
A feeling  within  us  says : King  Charles  would  have 
been  truer  to  himself  and  to  his  vows  if,  rather  than 
subject  himself  to  the  reluctant  hospitality  of  the  ene- 
mies of  Christianity,  he  had  died  with  his  whole  army 
by  Dnieper’s  strand. 

Lewenhaupt  capitulated  July  ist,  with  all  the  Swed- 
ish army,  at  the  Dnieper,  and  was  carried  captive  into 
the  interior  of  Russia.  Pultowa  bore  its  fruits.  Pultowa 
bore  its  memorials.  One  of  these  is  the  great  plain  in 
front  of  the  town  which  is  still  called  “ The  Swedish 
Grave.” 

And  here  ends  the  story  of  “The  Blue  ” and  of  the 
book  of  victories.  When  the  narrative  is  resumed  it 
will  chronicle  less  brilliant  achievements,  but  will  dis- 
close the  destinies  of  those  who  have  a nearer  place  in 
our  memories  and  our  hearts. 


f 


PART  II.— THE  FUGITIVE. 


INTERLUDE. 

"YXT'HEN  the  company  next  assembled  in  the  garret, 
VV  one  of  the  usual  members  was  found  to  be  ab- 
sent. Fate,  which  sometimes  makes  keen  jokes  of  human 
affairs,  had  sent  the  learned  schoolmaster,  Svenonius, 
a severe  rheumatic  pain  in  his  right  arm,  which  mem- 
ber has  in  all  times  been  considered  especially  indis- 
pensable in  the  exercise  of  the  schoolmaster’s  calling. 
Svenonius,  who,  no  less  than  his  colleagues  in  the 
business,  looked  upon  the  birch  as  the  proper  regulator 
of  school  order,  was  now  busily  engaged  in  restoring 
the  refractory  arm  that  wielded  the  whip,  and  sent  his 
excuses  to  the  Surgeon’s  evening  circle. 

Little  Jonathan  and  his  comrades  were  divided  by 
conflicting  sentiments.  They  could  not  conceal  a cer- 
tain malicious  pleasure  at  the  Nemesis  which  held  the 
frightful  lash  inactive  ; but  their  joy  was  embittered  by 
the  fear  that  the  Surgeon’s  stories  would  now  cease, 
and  that  the  sun  would  not  rise  again  over  Pultowa’s 
bloody  field.  It  was  therefore  a glad  surprise  to  them 
when  the  Surgeon,  quite  unsought,  announced  one 
evening  that  the  thread  would  run  from  the  spool 
again,  that  the  bloody  skein  was  ready  to  be  reeled. 

“ I prefer  to  be  out  in  a great  rain  rather  than  in 
the  sultry  calm  just  before  the  first  bursts  of  lightning,” 
said  he,  “and  I am  really  very  impatient  to  go  back 
from  the  steppes  of  Ukrain.  For  those  who  lived  be- 
tween 1700  and  1709,  it  may  have  been  a time  of 
exalted  thoughts  and  victorious  exultation  ; but  for  us 
who  know  what  followed,  it  lies  like  suffocation  on  our 

(115) 


116 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


hearts  when  the  great  ruin  casts  its  shadow  back  over 
the  glare  of  victory.  Better,  then,  to  stand  right  in  the 
midst  of  the  frightful  reality  than  sorrowfully  to  behold 
our  joys  through  the  dark  veil  of  a coming  night  of 
misfortune.” 

“No,  indeed,  if  you  have  nothing  better  and  pleas- 
anter to  promise  us,  we  may  as  well  begin  at  the  end,” 
said  the  old  grandmother,  plainly,  as  she  always  spoke. 
“You  can  let  it  rain  and  thunder  as  much  as  you  please 
in  the  records,  but  what  has  that  to  do  with  your 
stories?  You  can,  heaven  be  praised,  let  the  storms 
pass  by  and  go  on  with  the  sunshine  which  followed — 
since  you  have  a mind  to  speak  in  figures.  Tell  us, 
therefore,  fairly  and  openly:  4 My  friends,  it  went  so 
and  so  with  Charles  XII,  he  went  up  like  the  sun  and 
fell  down  like  a fur-coat,  fought  quite  enough  and  died 
a bachelor;’  and  you  can  probably  add  that  it  was  a 
shame  to  a brave  man  like  him,  that  in  his  time  copper 
was  worth  more  than  silver.  Afterwards  you  can  let 
young  Bertelskold  marry  and  hold  a stately  wedding 
at  Majniemi  Castle;  and  besides,  I hope  we  shall 
have  the  good  fortune  to  pass  by  the  war  and 
all  its  incidents,  and  hear  more  about  that  modest 
girl,  Ebba  Bertelskold,  and  more  about  the  king’s 
ring.” 

“ I do  not  suppose,”  growled  Captain  Svanholm, 
struggling  between  his  great  respect  for  the  old  lady  and 
his  utter  amazement  at  her  bad  taste,  “ I do  not  suppose 
that  brother  Back  will  so  lightly  cast  aside  Charles 
XII’s  broadsword  to  pick  his  teeth  over  the  pastry- work 
at  a wedding.” 

“ Both  the  king  and  G5sta  Bertelskold  are  in  exile 
and  captivity  ; we  must  first  have  them  back  again,” 
Anne  Sophie  hastened  to  remark,  when,  by  the  tremor 
of  the  captain’s  mustache,  she  suspected  a storm  was 
approaching. 

“ Heroism  ! ” shouted  the  captain  ; “ that  costs 

handsome  blows,  that  does!  ” 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


117 


“ Did  he  kill  all  the  Russians  ? ” interrupted  little 
Jonathan. 

“ No,”  replied  the  Surgeon.  “ While  the  Russians 
took  his  land,  Charles  XII  slew  his  friends,  the  Turks. 
That  is  one  of  a great  man’s  peculiarities.  Besides, 
I would  tell  you,  cousin  ” — and  with  this  the  Surgeon, 
somewhat  nettled,  turned  to  the  old  grandmother — 
“that  no  man  is  allowed  to  be  independent  of  his 
time  or  the  events  of  his  time.  I can  no  more  have  a 
wedding  at  Majniemi  during  the  great  discord,  than 
one  could  think  of  a ball  in  a house,  the  four  corners 
of  which  were  on  fire.  In  times  of  peace  and  sobriety, 
in  case  any  should  come  deserving  the  name,  we  might 
possibly  imagine  that  one  and  another  could  separate 
their  lives  from  the  general  life  of  the  nation  so  as  to 
make  a noise  in  the  world  individually.  But  grand  and 
stormy  times  tinge  every  living  being  which  moves  and 
breathes  in  them.  The  greater  the  rise  and  fall  of  the 
billows  of  events,  the  greater  the  oscillations  of  every 
little  boat,  yea,  of  every  chip  that  rides  upon  them,  and 
rest  is  found  only  in  the  dark  depths.  And  a Finnish 
nobleman,  a warrior,  an  attendant  of  Charles  XII, 
should  he  not  during  the  great  commotion  have  some- 
thing else  to  think  of  than  getting  married  ? The  king 
himself  had  no  time  for  that,  notwithstanding  it  was  a 
matter  of  preserving  the  crown  for  his  family.  No, 
cousin,  when  we  presume  to  plant  seed  for  history,  we 
must  lay  it  in  such  soil  as  its  nature  requires,  and  let  it 
grow  upon  its  own  roots  without  grafting  it  with  any 
trumpery.  I can  let  all  the  seed  lie,  like  much  of  the 
seed  of  past  times  which  has  fallen  upon  barren  soil; 
but  if  it  grow,  it  must  grow  out  of  itself  and  not  out  of 
me.  I can  not  remould  the  epochs;  our  Lord  has 
formed  them  as  they  are  in  his  great  crucible.” 

“ Well,  well,”  said  the  old  grandmother,  with  her 
kind,  forgiving  smile,  “ you  must  not  get  out  of  humor 
because  I,  a peace-loving  woman,  was  a little  afraid  of 
the  raw  weather  in  the  story.  Tell  just  what  the  truth 


118 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


demands;  if  it  is  altogether  too  shocking,  I will  give 
my  attention  to  my  knitting  so  that  I may  not  make 
one  foot  longer  than  the  other.  There  are  plenty  of 
listeners  here  with  more  warlike  inclinations  than  I. 
I see  by  cousin  Svanholm’s  martial  bearing  that  great 
battles  are  imminent,  and  I am  sure  that  both  Anne 
Sophie  and  Jonathan  already  think  themselves  in  the 
thickest  of  a shower  of  bullets.” 

“ Dear  godfather,  tell  about  his  killing  the  Turks,” 
interrupted  the  very  warlike  little  Jonathan,  having  be- 
come valiant  by  hearing  himself  counted  among  Charles 
XII’s  admirers. 

“ No,  my  little  old  man,”  replied  the  Surgeon. 
“ That  pleasure  you  can  better  enjoy  in  reading  Swed- 
ish history.  We  must  be  careful  not  to  wander  too  far 
out  in  the  world,  lest  we  remain  as  long  away  as  the 
king  was  in  Turkey,  to  the  great  detriment  of  himself 
and  his  kingdom.  It  is  long  since  we  were  in  Fin- 
land, and  now  we  must  see  how  that  country  bears  the 
heavy  burden  of  its  share  in  the  victories  and  the  mis- 
fortunes of  Charles  XII.” 

“ What  is  the  name  of  the  next  story?  ” 

“ The  Fugitive.  For  at  that  time  every  thing  that 
could  fly,  fled  from  its  fate.  The  prisoner  of  war  fled 
from  the  foreign  land — neighbor  fled  to  neighbor,  the 
peasant  left  his  burned  home,  the  dweller  in  town  his 
vacant  place  of  business,  the  scholar  his  overturned-1 
bookshelves.  The  storm  swept  with  it  every  thing  that 
came  in  its  way:  the  miser’s  money-chest  and  the  poor 
man’s  last  cent,  the  peaceful  flags  in  the  harbor,  the 
seed-corn  from  the  furrow,  the  horse  from  the  carriage, 
the  cattle  from  the  field,  the  hand  from  the  plow,  the 
only  son  from  the  widow,  the  bread  and  marrow  from 
the  land,  and  hope  out  of  its  heart.  The  time 
which  stands  as  the  portal  of  our  story  is  the  time  of 
transition  from  victory’s  shout  to  lamentation’s  wail; 
and  during  this  time  was  fought  a desperate  battle  over 
the  remnants  of  a forsaken  and  oppressed  land.  For 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


119 


he  who,  next  to  God,  ought  to  protect  its  borders  and 
preserve  for  it  the  fruits  of  its  cultivated  fields  — fields 
which  many  generations  had  laboriously,  yea,  with  un- 
speakable sacrifice,  conquered  from  the  wilderness,  — 
he,  in  the  land  of  the  unbeliever,  continued  the  ven- 
turesome game  for  foreign  crowns;  he  whose  name 
alone  was  more  than  a host,  and  whose  least  victory, 
now  useless,  would  have  saved  Finland  from  destruc- 
tion, bore  his  head  so  high,  even  in  his  exile,  that  he 
looked  away  over  his  bleeding  country  to  Europe  and 
the  world,  to  hear  the  din  of  Rumor’s  thousand  tongues 
repeating  his  name,  and  the  sound  of  the  Osman  war- 
cry,  which  was  to  break  the  charm  of  his  good  fortune. 
Immovable  in  his  faith  in  the  victory  of  the  right,  he 
did  not  notice  that  fate  was  secretly  undermining  his 
power  and  loosening  stone  after  stone  in  the  ground- 
wall  of  his  predecessor’s  giant  work. 

“ Land  after  land,  fortress  after  fortress,  army  after 
army,  gave  way  in  violence  and  blood;  Sweden  fell 
asunder,  Finland  went  down,  and  everything  tottered 
beneath  him ; but  he  stood  erect,  alone,  invincible  ; 
capable  of  everything  except  to  bend  before  the 
fickleness  of  human  fortune;  exalted  above  all  that 
history  relates  concerning  hero-virtues,  and  yet  less 
than  the  least  in  the  art  of  forgetting  and  forgiving ; 
greater  than  any  in  renouncing  all,  and  yet  so  power- 
less in  renouncing  himself.” 


120 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  STUDENTS  TAKE  THE  FIELD. 

ONE  fine  spring-day  in  the  last  of  April,  1710,  a 
Pomeranian  galley  had  succeeded  in  entering, 
between  the  cakes  of  ice,  the  mouth  of  the  Aura  river, 
and  had  laid  to  at  the  quay  in  Abo  to  discharge  its 
cargo  of  grain.  The  crops  had  failed  badly  the  year 
before,  so  that  rye  during  the  winter  advanced  to  from 
twenty  to  thirty  dollars  a barrel,  and  it  was  therefore 
natural  that  a multitude  of  enterprising  buyers  should 
immediately  crowd  around  the  welcome  Pomeranian 
supplies.  People  of  all  classes  — merchants,  trades- 
men, servants,  the  learned  and  the  unlearned,  and  a 
crowd  of  breadless  mechanics  and  seamen  — streamed 
in  together,  in  the  hope  of  supplying  their  needs  at 
a tolerable  price;  and  the  Pomeranian  had  great  diffi- 
culty in  making  them  understand  that  the  whole  cargo 
was  under  contract  to  the  crown  for  the  use  of  the 
Finnish  army. 

The  whole  crowd,  disappointed  in  their  hopes,  be- 
gan to  grumble.  “ What  now  ? ” exclaimed  a heavy- 
built  butcher  who  had  nothing  more  to  kill  ; — “ shall 
we  starve  for  the  sake  of  swelling  General  Lybecker’s 
fat  purse  ! Sell  for  fifteen  dollars,  comrade,  and  a 
good  piece  of  pork  in  the  bargain,  provided  you  are 
not  a Jew  ! ” 

“ The  general  can  eat  a little  less  and  then  he  can 
march  better,”  interrupted  another.  “ Hark,  you  Pom- 
eranian turnip,  don’t  let  the  government  rat  slip  into 
your  meal  chest  ; it  will  gnaw  holes  in  it  ! ” 

“Aren’t  you  a little  ashamed,  you  beef-hawker  ! ” 
shouted  a burly  quartermaster,  who  elbowed  his  way 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


121 


through  the  crowd.  “ I am  the  man  that  has  the  com- 
missary’s order  to  receive  the  grain,  and  if  any  one  offers 
any  resistance,  I will  beat  him  into  grits.” 

“ Nail  him  up,  the  crown-thief ! ” shouted  back 
several  voices.  “ Carve  him,  the  state  coward  ! They 
intend  to  gobble  up  all  the  grain  in  order  to  skin  both 
the  government  and  us!  ” 

“Wait,  you  beer-funnels,  you  pudding-makers,  you 
scullions,  I will  teach  you  to  insult  his  excellency,  the 
general’s  august  person,  when  the  welfare  of  the  whole 
country  depends  on  our  weapons  ! ” shrieked  the  quar- 
termaster, when  he  had  luckily  slipped  through  the 
crowd  to  the  Pomeranian  deck. 

“Yes,  in  your  jaw  lies  the  country’s  welfare,”  retorted 
the  crowd.  “ Paste  the  poltroon  to  the  mast ! Dip 
him  in  the  river  ! Calk  and  pay  him  ! Duck  him  ! 
They  can  brag,  but  let  the  Russians  come  and  we  would 
see  them  running  for  the  woods  ! ” 

The  times  were  so  disquieted,  the  passions  so  dis- 
cordant, that  the  least  spark  might  set  everything 
ablaze;  and  so  even  this  quarrel  threatened  to  terminate 
in  violence,  when,  fortunately,  the  attention  of  the 
crowd  was  turned  in  another  direction.  The  most  hot- 
headed of  them  were  already  about  to  push  forward  to 
the  deck  of  the  galley  and  violently  hunt  out  the  burly 
quartermaster,  when  the  tones  of  a choir  of  men’s 
voices,  so  uncommon  at  that  time,  caused  them  to  stop 
and  hear  what  it  meant.  They  very  soon  saw  a 
numerous  company  of  students  advancing  in  martial 
order  from  the  farthest  part  of  town,  which  of  old  was 
known  as  Russian  - hill,  because  — if  we  may  be- 
lieve the  learned  Daniel  Justen — it  was  there  that  the 
Muscovites  had  their  camp  when  they  laid  waste  the 
town  in  1318.  This  company  of  young  men  was 
probably  something  more  than  three  hundred  strong, 
but  its  ranks  were  not  so  straight  and  well-ordered  that 
they  could  be  counted  with  as  much  certainty  as  the 
regular  militia.  There  was  wanting  also  that  congru- 
6 


122 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


ous  exterior  which  one,  especially  in  these  days,  is  ac- 
customed to  expect  in  the  common  uniform,  and  in 
measured,  disciplined  conduct ; for  the  greater  part  of 
these  improvised  soldiers  wore  quite  unconcernedly  the 
same  gray  or  blue  homespun  jackets  with  which  they 
had  been  fitted  out  by  the  parish  tailor  at  home,  and 
only  a few  among  them  had  made  an  attempt,  with 
yellow  cuffs  and  leather  belts  of  the  same  color,  to  copy 
in  some  degree  the  well-known  and  world-renowned 
Carolin  uniform.  A military  man  would  have  noted 
many  faults  in  their  bearing,  for  many  of  their  necks 
had  heretofore  crooked  under  the  burden  of  Latin 
grammar  ; but,  on  the  other  hand,  one  saw  strong, 
muscular  figures,  and  powerful,  athletic  limbs,  such  as 
hardly  any  company  of  the  youth  of  to-day  can  show. 
Many  chins  at  that  time  bore  “ manhood’s  ornament  ” 
while  yet  in  school,  and  if  students  of  fourteen  and  fif- 
teen then  as  now  were  not  so  especially  scarce  at  the 
Finnish  University,  yet  much  the  greater  number  had 
reached  the  mature  age  of  thirty  and  forty  years  when 
they  prepared  to  exchange  books  for  swords.  Thus  it 
came  about  that  the  youngest  novitiates  who  were  kept 
under  the  strictest  discipline  by  their  older  companions 
and  by  them  treated  as  little  better  than  servant-boys, 
were  not  considered  worthy  of  taking  part  in  the  heroic 
exercises.  From  this  it  may  be  assumed  that  the  most 
exacting  mustering  officer  could  not  find  many  to  reject 
in  the  troop  that  now  marched  forth  along  the  street  of 

Abo. 

The  students  sung — when  do  not  students  sing  their 
joys  and  their  hopes  ? In  artistic  execution  their  song 
would  not,  it  is  true,  compare  with  the  quartettes  of  the 
present  day,  but  a powerful  and  steadfast  spirit 
breathed  in  those  tones.  It  was  Dahlstjerna’s  well- 
known  song  of  Sir  Peter,  who  tried  to  capture  a beau- 
tiful maid,  the  pride  of  Narva,  and  of  King  Charles 
who  protected  her. 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


123 


“ From  out  the  eastern  woods  there  came  an  anguished  cry 

Ah  woe  betide  ! our  men  in  death  are  sleeping  ! — 

Who  now  our  plowshares  guide,  our  harrows  ply  ? 

And  bolts  and  bars  our  noble  lords  are  keeping. 

But  know  ye  not  that  in  King  Charles  she  found  protection  ?” 

An  uncommonly  tall  and  broad-shouldered  man  in 
sailor  dress  had,  just  stepped  ashore  from  the  galley  and 
turned  to  his  neighbor  in  the  crowd,  a sooty  smith,  with 
the  inquiry : “ What  does  this  warlike  appearance 

mean  ? Is  the  enemy  already  in  the  country,  that  the 
students  arm  themselves  with  the  apparent  intention  of 
taking  the  field  ? ” 

“ I ought  to  know,”  answered  the  smith.  “ For  four 
whole  weeks,  day  and  night,  I have  hammered  away  at 
musket  barrels  and  broad-swords,  not  to  mention  stir- 
rups and  horse-shoes  and  such  like,  so  that  there  was 
no  time  to  repair  a single  lock,  even  if  it  was  for  the 
rich  Wargelin’s  money-chest.  The  students  ? To  be 
sure  ; they  have  now  for  eight  years  run  after  rapiers, 
and  drilled  as  soldiers,  although  it  was  quiet  mean- 
while. But  now  the  Russians  are  before  Wiborg,  and 
Easter  night  there  came  an  order  from  Governor 
Palmenberg  for  all  the  students  to  seize  their  muskets 
and  march  with  the  nosto-folks.*  A hammer-stroke 
that  set  the  bellows  roaring  ! The  professors  opposed 
it  as  long  as  they  could,  but  Greek  and  Latin  have  got 
out  of  fashion  at  Abo,  and  only  the  crooked,  the  halt 
and  the  blind  are  left  at  their  books.  But  the  students 
were  determined  to  go,  and  that’s  how  the  matter 
stands.  Slag  in  my  forge  ! but  there’s  powder  in  those 
boys  ! I fought  them  for  seven  years,  two  or  three 
evenings  a week,  while  I was  an  apprentice,  and  many  a 
good  fellow  carries  marks  in  his  hide  now,  made  by  my 
blows  ; but  since  I have  been  out  of  my  time,  I take 
sides  with  them.  But  just  look  at  those  polished  mus- 
kets ; — they  are  all  of  them  from  my  shop  ; straight 


* Nosto — that  is,  levied—  an  old  half-Finnish  word  then  current. 


124 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


and  bright  as  sunshine  ! And  one  half  of  them  I let 
them  have  on  credit.” 

“ Who  is  that  right  reverend,  in  the  caftan  and  the 
long  peruke,  away  there  by  the  corner,  and  who  seems 
to  be  watching  the  student’s  parade  very  closely  ? ” 

“ That  is  Professor  Tammelin,  rector  at  the  Univer- 
sity. It  makes  his  reverence  feel  worse  than  a three-inch 
nail  under  a forty-pound  sledge.  The  bishop  is  in 
Stockholm,  and  the  whole  town  is  in  uproar.  Easter 
evening,  three  balls  were  fired  into  Assessor  Gyllen- 
krok’s  chamber  while  he  was  in  the  bath-house.  Satan 
knows  if  the  students  had  anything  to  do  with  it,  but  I 
know  this  much  : the  student’s  dungeon  for  the  last  two 
weeks  has  a larger  population  than  the  lecture  rooms, 
and  I have  had  to  make  two  new  padlocks  for  it.  ‘ Do 
not  forge  them  too  strong,  Wasara-Jaako,’ said  the  stu- 
dents ; ‘ you  understand  that  we  would  rather  fight  for 
King  Charles  than  catch  spiders  in  prison.’  ‘ I only 
know  my  business,’  I replied;  ‘ but  if  you  had  King 
Charles’s  knuckles  you  would  be  too  much  for  my  locks, 
would  you  believe  me,  sailor?  the  clever  young  sparks 
took  me  at  my  word,  and  one  fine  morning  my  new  locks 
were  broken  to  pieces.  Thereupon  the  most  learned 
conspiratory  . . . 

“ Consistory,”  said  the  sailor,  by  way  of  correction. 

“ Let  it  go.  The  most  learned  consistory  put  a 
strong  iron  bar  across  the  door,  and  since  then  the  birds 
have  modestly  remained  in  the  cage.  But  the  rest  make 
more  noise  than  ever,  and  meet  and  drill  every  day  on 
Russian  hill.  Just  listen  now.  They  have  stopped  and  are 
counseling  about  some  new  project.  I’ll  bet  my  shop 
against  a brick-bat  that  they  are  not  putting  their  heads 
together  in  regard  to  examinations  or  Greek  ballads. 
Look  sharp  ! Just  hear!  Old  Wader,  the  jailor,  will 
find  something  to  do  now  ! ” 

The  song  had  ceased,  and  the  students  halted  on 
Strand  street.  After  a moment’s  eager  consultation 
there  was  heard  all  through  the  company  the 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


125 


noisier  shout:  “ To  the  prison!  to  the  prison!” 
And  the  whole  band  were  soon  on  the  march  towards 
the  university,  whither  the  sailor,  who  for  the  time  had 
nothing  else  to  do,  followed  them  at  a distance. 

The  Royal  University  at  Abo  had  at  that  time,  and 
for  about  a hundred  years  after,  its  frugal  seat  in  the 
high  wall  that  surrounded  the  churchyard  nearest  the 
cathedral;  and  the  side  of  the  same  wall,  half  way  be- 
tween the  laboratory  and  the  library,  had  a peculiar 
projection  which  answered  an  important  end  by  serv- 
ing as  a career , or  student-dungeon,  as  it  pleased  the 
blacksmith  to  justly  translate  it.  It  was  hither  the  stu- 
dents directed  their  march,  and  they  were  scarcely  at 
the  place,  before  they  undertook  to  do  what  in  all  prob- 
ability they  would  not  have  ventured  to  try  if  the  strict 
and  venerated  bishop  Johannes  Gezelius  the  younger, 
chancellor  of  the  university,  had  been  in  the  city: 
namely,  with  loud  shouts  to  demand  the  release  of 
their  imprisoned  comrade.  “ Out  with  the  prisoner  ! ” 
shouted  the  crowd.  “ Open  the  prison ! Out  Pel- 
danus!  Out  Miltopoeus  ! Out  Bang  ! All  prisoners 
free  to  fight  for  king  and  fatherland!  ” 

Wader,  the  jailor,  an  old  discharged  ensign,  who 
was  invalided  at  the  battle  of  Lund,  was  probably  not 
unaccustomed  to  similar  visits,  for  he  took  care  about 
opening  the  barred  door,  and  contented  himself  with 
looking  through  a little  grated  window  above  it  and 
asking  in  a harsh  voice  : “ What  foolishness  are  you 

up  to  now  ? ” 

A couple  of  skillfully  thrown  rotten  eggs,  and  the 
renewed  shout  of  “ Out  with  the  prisoner!  ” was  the 
answer  to  the  question,  so  clear  that  it  could  not  be 
misunderstood.  Wader*  took  this  with  a calmness  that 
one  would  not  think  the  name  capable  of,  and  went 
without  further  exchange  of  words  to  see  if  the  locks 
and  gratings  were  in  proper  shape. 

The  students  were  for  several  minutes  at  a loss. 


* The  word  means  Storm. — Tr, 


126 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Some  of  the  boldest  counseled  storming  the  door  at 
once,  and  in  that  way  breaking  into  the  prison.  Others 
thought  it  would  be  easier  and  more  prudent  to  go 
around  the  corner  and  crowd  in  through  the  court  door 
that  stood  open  the  whole  day,  and  from  that  side  set 
free  their  imprisoned  comrade.  The  most  discreet 
argued  that  they  ought  rather  to  betake  themselves  to 
the  rector’s  house  en  masse , and  by  petition  gain  what 
in  any  other  way  might  have  such  an  uncertain  issue. 

Before  they  had  come  to  any  conclusion,  their  inde- 
cision was  suddenly  ended  by  the  approach  of  the  rec- 
tor accompanied  by  two  members  of  the  consistory.  It 
should  be  remarked  that  the  two  energetic  bishops 
Gezelius,  father  and  son,  for  almost  two  generations 
maintained  among  the  students  the  strictest  discipline 
which  even  before  that  was  a part  of  the  spirit  of  the 
times  and  which  now  only  an  extreme  public  peril  and 
the  absence  of  the  rigid  superior  had  turned  from  its  or- 
dinary course.  When  Bishop  Gezelius  the  younger,  of 
ruddy  and  healthful  countenance,  used  with  his  sharp 
brown  eyes  to  review  the  students’  corps,  no  mouth 
ventured  to  open  and  no  hand  ventured  to  move 
except  in  token  of  the  most  entire  obedience  and  sub- 
mission. Now  he  was  away,  but  the  traditional  re- 
spect for  an  authority  of  the  university  was  not  yet 
forgotten,  and  as  soon  as  the  rector  showed  himself, 
every  cap  flew  off,  there  was  perfect  silence,  and,  with 
uncovered  heads,  all  awaited  what  the  highest  au- 
thority of  the  university  now  present  had  to  say  to 
them. 

Rector  magnificus,  Professor  Tammelin,  was  a lean 
man  of  ungraceful  figure,  made  more  noticeable  by 
his  clerical  dress  and  a consciousness  of  the  ascendency 
which  indisputably  belonged  to  the  theological  faculty. 
He  went  among  the  students  with  an  assurance  becom- 
ing the  vicar  of  the  chief  of  the  church,  and  addressed 
them  in  Latin,  because  that  learned  tongue  was  in  gen- 
eral use  in  all  matters  concerning  teachers  and  schol- 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


127 


ars,  and  perhaps  also  because  he  would  not  initiate 
the  bystanders  into  the  domestic  broils  of  the  uni- 
versity. 

“ What  do  you  mean  by  this  noise  ? ” he  said. 
“’Why  are  you  here  in  arms  ? And  what  is  your  ex- 
cuse for  the  confusion  which  now  for  several  weeks  has 
disturbed  the  peace  of  the  university  and  the  respect 
you  owe  its  laws  ? ” 

Gabriel  Peldan,  a brother  of  the  resolute  Israel 
Peldan  who  on  this  occasion  was  in  jail,  now  stepped 
forward  from  the  crowd,  bowed  low  to  his  rector,  and 
boldly  answered  in  Latin  no  less  fluent  than  that  of  the 
learned  professor  himself.  “Your  magnificence,”  said 
he,  “ knows  much  better  than  we  poor  students  the 
need  and  peril  that  have  come  upon  our  country 
through  the  unexpected  invasion  of  the  Muscovites, 
and  that  the  government  authorities  have  ordered  that 
the  students  shall  be  armed  and  disciplined  to  march 
against  the  enemy.  I take  the  liberty  to  say,  and  we 
would  all  witness  it  with  our  blood,  that  we  students 
earnestly  desire  with  the  greatest  assiduity  to  fulfill  this 
high  command,  and  would  willingly  die  for  our  heroic 
king  and  our  beloved  fatherland.  But  now,  contrary 
perhaps  to  your  magnificence’s  knowledge  or  will,  all 
kinds  of  obstacles  and  hindrances  have  been  laid  in  the 
way  of  this  our  highest  desire,  by  persons  whose  inten- 
tions are  not  honorable  either  regarding  us  or  the 
country.  And  when  we,  in  spite  of  this,  have  assem- 
bled for  military  exercise  according  to  these  orders,  and 
have,  perhaps  somewhat  noisily,  made  our  good  inten- 
tions known,  some  of  us  have  been  incarcerated  as 
rioters  and  thus  prevented  from  serving  our  fatherland. 
On  this  account  are  we,  protesting  our  meek  obedience 
to  and  respect  for  your  magnificence’s  commands  in 
all  else,  come  hither  to  humbly  petition  for  the  deliver- 
ance of  our  imprisoned  comrades,  so  that  we  all  as 
soon  as  possible  may  march  to  the  field,  and  thus  his 


128 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


gracious  majesty’s  will,  as  far  as  concerns  us,  soon 
go  into  execution.” 

“ Your  humble  speech,  Peldan,”  replied  the  rector, 
“ does  not  well  agree  with  this  defiant  appearance  and 
the  tumult  which  under  the  very  walls  of  our  sacred  uni- 
versity have  frightened  the  peaceful  muses  into  flight. 
Young  men,  you  go  widely  astray  if  you  believe  that 
the  peril  of  our  fatherland  can  be  averted  by  noisy  defi- 
ance when  the  safety  of  all  depends  rather  upon  the 
unity  of  all.  Know  ye  that  the  authorities  of  the  uni- 
versity can  not  set  themselves  against  the  proclamation 
of  the  governor,  but  on  the  other  hand  they  ought  not 
to  submit  without  reservation  to  what  clearly  conflicts 
with  the  law  and  constitution.  The  second  paragraph 
of  the  last  chapter  of  the  constitution  of  the  university 
says  expressly  : Studiosi  habebunt  vacationem  militiae , 
cujuscunque  sortis  sint  vel  conditionis .” 

“ Will  your  magnificence  most  graciously  deign  to 
call  to  mind  the  words  immediately  following  : nec  sub 
quo cunque  deni que  titulo  ad  earn  inviti  trahentur inter- 
rupted Peldan,  somewhat  carried  away  by  that  general 
desire  for  disputation  which  awakens  as  soon  as  the 
Roman  tongue  is  used. 

A scarcely  perceptible  flush  on  the  rector’s  cheeks 
gave  reason  to  suspect  that  the  shot  hit,  but  he  con- 
sidered it  more  judicious  not  to  enter  upon  any  refu- 
tation. 

“The  consistory,”  continued  he,  “has  carefully  con- 
sidered the  great  danger  that  would  threaten  Finland’s 
future  if  the  students  who  are  called  in  their  time  to  fill 
the  public  offices  and  guard  the  public  instruction, 
should  fall  in  great  numbers  before  the  enemies’  bullets 
and  by  that  means  bring  the  obscurity  of  barbarism 
over  coming  generations.  Entirely  on  this  account 
have  the  university  authorities  thought  it  necessary  to 

* Students  shall  be  free  from  military  service  under  whatever  circum- 
stances or  conditions. 

Nor  shall  they  under  any  pretext  whatever  be  compelled  thereto  against 
their  will. 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


129 


delay  the  military  exercises  until  the  royal  council  has 
had  time  to  resolve  our  most  humble  doubts,  and  we 
have  rightfully  permitted  the  punishment  of  those  of 
you  who  have  acted  in  opposition  to  the  known  judg- 
ment of  your  superiors.  But  there  have  just  now 
come  to  hand  certain  documents  which  duly  settle  that 
only  twenty  of  you,  who  are  large  and  strong  in  body 
and  least  inclined  to  study,  shall  take  the  field  while  the 
rest  remain  at  their  peaceful  exercises  in  literis  et  arti- 
bus.  Young  men,  in  consideration  of  your  original 
good  intentions  and  the  exigencies  of  the  times,  we, 
your  superiors,  will  for  this  time  overlook  your  less  ap- 
propriate behavior  and  release  your  comrades  who  have 
been  incarcerated,  on  condition  that  you  act  in  accord- 
ance with  the  call  of  the  royal  government  and  your- 
selves select  from  among  you  the  twenty  to  be  the 
champions  of  the  land.  Go  also,  ye  others,  in  peace, 
and  serve  your  country,  not  with  defiance  and  alarms, 
but  by  commendable  works.” 

With  these  words  the  rector  retired,  leaving  the 
whole  troop  of  young  men  undetermined  and  at  a loss. 
The  message  was  not  welcome,  that  only  a few  of  them 
should  go  out  and  clothe  themselves  in  blood  for 
fatherland.  Their  enthusiasm  was  not  of  that  kind, 
which,  mighty  in  words,  flames  up  between  the  cup  and 
the  wall  only  to  cool  off  the  next  day.  They  were 
genuine  sons  of  their  time  and  their  people,  ready  and 
willing  to  march,  not  to  splendid  feasts,  but  to  the  un- 
mitigated, and  fatally  bloody  rigors  of  an  iron-hard  time; 
and,  like  all  the  Swedes  and  Finns  of  that  day,  felt 
themselves  capable  of  fighting  the  world.  Therefore, 
the  judicious  caution  of  their  elders  fell  like  a cold 
shower  on  their  youthful  zeal,  and  some  of  the  boldest 
ventured  to  propose  that  immediately,  and  without  fur- 
ther questioning  the  worthy  fathers,  they  should  attack 
the  enemy.  Others  again  recollected  that  General 
Lybecker  was  just  then  on  very  unfriendly  terms  with 
the  Chancellor  of  the  University,  Bishop  Gezelius,  and 
I 


130 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


would  probably  favor  their  refractoriness  just  to  gall  the 
bishop.  But  Lybecker  was  not  a man  who  could  fire 
the  Finnish  student’s  patriotic  enthusiasm.  A shout  of 
disgust  arose  at  the  mention  of  his  name,  and  immed- 
iately after,  when  the  prisoners  were  liberated,  they 
determined  to  comply  with  the  rector’s  demands. 

“ The  time  will  probably  come  though,  and  sooner 
than  we  wish,  when  every  one  of  us  that  can  carry  a 
musket  will  have  a chance  to  fight  for  his  own  fireside,” 
said  the  vigorous  and  discreet  Gabriel  Peldan,  propheti- 
cally. 

“ But  I will  go  against  the  enemy  at  once  ” — “And 
I”  — “And  I,”  shouted  fifty  eager  voices.  They 
disputed  vehemently  for  the  honor  of  being  one  of  the 
twenty  ; and  each  one  swore  by  all  the  gods  and  god- 
desses of  antiquity  that  no  one  was  less  “ inclined  to 
study  ” than  the  speaker  himself,  and  if  it  came  to  a 
question  of  physical  strength,  any  one  might  try  it  now. 
The  number  was  too  great ; they  must  finally  decide 
by  lot.  They  who  drew  the  warrior’s  lots  immediately 
fastened  them  proudly  to  their  caps,  while  those  who 
were  doomed  to  remain  at  their  books,  in  grief  and 
anger  trampled  the  lots  under  their  feet. 

When  this  was  done  the  word  went  around  among 
the  twenty  lucky  ones  that  they  ought  to  elect  one  of 
their  number  corporal. 

“ Let  Simon  Bang  be  our  corporal  ! ” shouted 
several  voices,  and  Simon  Bang  was  chosen  on  the 
spot. 

He  was  one  of  the  eight  rioters  from  the  prison  and 
one  of  the  strongest  built.  But  Simon  Bang  had  his 
scruples,  and  declared  that  he  would  accept  the  dis- 
tinction only  on  one  condition,  namely,  that  the 
company  should  at  the  same  time  be  led  by  an  ex- 
perienced captain. 

“Nonsense  ! ” said  some.  “ Fie  who  has  alone  put 
eleven  apprentices  to  flight  on  Gertulus  hill,  can  also 
alone  drub  a whole  hostile  army.” 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


131 


“ I stick  to  my  word,”  replied  Bang,  who  was  known 
to  be  a bull  both  in  strength  and  obstinacy. 

“ Bang  is  right,”  added  Peldan.  “ But  whom  shall 
we  choose  ? There  is  no  real  Carolin  left  in  the  city, 
excepting  the  lame  Tavast  and  the  armless  Ridderstorm 
and  the  drunken  Falstrom.  If  we  go  to  Lybecker 
without  our  own  commander,  he  will  thrust  us  in  the 
ranks,  or  give  us  a fellow  that  has  learned  of  him  the 
art  of  retreating.” 

“ If  the  gentlemen  wish  for  captain  and  comrade  an 
honorable  Carolin  who  has  been  under  fire  before,  I am 
at  your  service  until  the  great  commander  shows  me 
another  place,”  sounded  suddenly  a strong  manly  voice 
from  the  direction  of  the  wall  near  by.  The  students 
looked  about  and  saw  the  tall  man  in  seaman’s 
dress  whom  we  have  mentioned  before — the  one  who 
landed  from  the  Pomeranian  galley.  The  first  look 
showed  them  that  Simon  Bang  was  scarcely  higher  than 
this  giant’s  shoulder. 

They  asked  in  some  surprise  who  he  was. 

“A  poor  Carolin,  as  I have  already  said,  and  my 
name  is  Gustaf  Adolf  Bertelskold.” 

“ Is  it  Count  Bertelskold  of  the  life-dragoons — one 
of  the  king’s  attendants — he  who  fought  so  bravely  in 
all  the  king’s  conquests — he  who  was  wounded  at  Pul- 
towa  and  taken  prisoner  at  the  Dnieper  ? ” questioned 
several  voices  at  once  in  a tone  of  admiration  and  re- 
spect that  showed  that  the  brave  count’s  achievements 
were  not  unknown  in  his  fatherland. 

“ I am  the  same,  and  have  had  the  honor  of  wit- 
nessing his  majesty’s  victories,  although  my  sword 
weighed  no  more  there  than  that  of  the  least  of  the 
soldiers,”  answed  Bertelskold.  “ My  story  since  that 
time  can  be  told  in  few  words.  I was  eight  months  a 
prisoner,  then  fled  to  Poland  and  Germany,  and  suc- 
ceeded finally  in  coming  by  way  of  Pomerania  to  Abo 
to  offer  my  weak  arm  to  my  fatherland.” 

“ Hurrah  ! Hurrah  ! Bertelskold  is  our  captain  ! 


132 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Live  the  king  ! Live  Bertelskold  ! ” exultingly  shouted 
the  students. 

“ Now  it  will  go  like  a dance — hunting  the  Mus- 
covites home  to  great  Novgorod,”  cried  several  voices. 

“ Gentlemen,”  said  Bertelskold,  not  without  an  ex- 
pression of  sadness  in  his  charming  and  manly  voice, 
“ there  was  a time  when  I,  as  well  as  all  our  army, 
marched  eagerly  forward  in  the  same  resolute  faith. 
Many  thousands  of  our  men  were  taken  prisoners  or 
killed, — victory’s  bloom  withered  in  the  hands  of  the 
most  habitually  victorious  army  which  ever  defied 
Europe  ; all  this  has  taught  me  not  to  despise  an 
enemy  who  has  learned  the  art  of  war  from  ourselves, 
and  who  can  continually  oppose  personal  bravery  with 
numbers.  When  I just  now  saw  the  joyous  mood  with 
which  all  the  students  competed  for  the  honor  of  fight- 
ing for  king  and  land,  I said  to  myself  : ‘ We  may  still 
hope,  yes  with  heaven  we  may  still  conquer,  for  such 
are  we  all ! We  know  not  what  fear  is.’  But  to  con- 
quer we  need  discretion  too.  Not  rashness,  gentlemen  ! 
We  have  before  us  an  enemy  who  may  become  danger- 
ous to  us  if  we  consider  him  less  than  he  is.  I accept 
your  invitation I become  your  captain  for  the  short 
time  allotted  me,  and  as  I swear  to  you  an  honorable 
comradeship  to  the  last  drop  of  blood,  so  should  you 
swear  to  me  military  obedience.” 

“ We  swear  it  ! Only  lead  us  forward  ! Lead  us  at 
once  against  the  enemy  ! *’ 

“ If  it  is  possible  we  will  march  to-morrow.  God 
grant  us  the  good  fortune  to  accomplish  something  for 
our  poor  land.  At  least  we  shall  know  how  to  fight 
and  to  die  for  her.  Live  King  Charles  ! ” 

“ Live  King  Charles ! To  arms  ! To  arms  ! ” 


133 


THE  FUGITIVE.  . ■ 
1 — 

//- 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  KLINGSPOR  OF  THE  GR&AT  WAR. 

Y /i 

IT  had  for  a long  time  been  cloudy  in  the  east,  arid 
the  storm  was  gathering.  As  a sailor  on  the  sheltered 
bay  sees  by  degrees  the  water  grow  dark  as  the  thunder- 
cloud rises  above  the  horizon,  and  restlessly  turns  eye 
and  ear  in  that  direction  to  be  on  the  watch  for  danger, 
so  stood  Finland  for  ten  years  with  eye  and  ear 
stretched  towards  the  east  to  note  the  signs  of  the 
times.  The  lightnings  flashed  continually  on  the  dark 
cloud,  but  they  were  still  afar  off  and  their  report  was 
weakened  by  the  distance.  It  was  still  hoped  that  the 
storm  would  go  by  on  one  side,  when  suddenly  the 
name  Pultowa,  like  a frightful  thunder-clap,  rolled  from 
east  to  west,  foretelling  menace  and  danger.  From  that 
moment  safety  was  no  longer  found  on  the  east  side  of 
the  Bothnia.  Those  who  lay  down  at  night  asked  God 
what  sun  would  rise  upon  the  morning,  and  listened 
during  the  darkness  to  every  unusual  sound  from  wood 
or  bay.  Those  who  went  to  the  field  enjoined  the 
children  at  home  to  hasten  with  tidings  if  any  uncom- 
mon noise  was  heard  in  the  neighborhood,  and  whoever 
went  on  a journey  requested  his  neighbor,  before  he 
started,  to  look  after  his  house  if  anything  occurred. 
The  old  hunter  examined  the  lock  on  his  gun  every 
evening  ; the  mother  thanked  God  every  morning  that 
she  still  had  her  dear  ones  ; the  little  boys  played  war; 
the  daughter’s  spinning-wheel  ceased  to  turn  when  a 
stranger  was  seen  at  the  door,  and  the  watch-dog  began 
to  growl  when  he  heard  the  report  of  a gun  in  the  ad- 
joining woods.  If  a wayfarer  came,  he  was  over- 
whelmed with  questions,  and  one  sought  to  read  in  his 


134 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


countenance  whether  the  enemy  had  crossed  the  border. 
People  who  took  thought  for  the  morrow,  had  turnip 
patches  planted  in  the  uninhabited  tracts  that  they 
might  have  stores  in  time  of  need.  Others  had  secret 
cellars  walled  up  in  which  to  preserve  their  property, 
and  many  sent  betimes  their  silver  to  Sweden.  The 
towns  exercised  their  remaining  youth  in  arms  and 
stationed  sentries  along  the  roads  to  give  warning  in 
tirrfe  if  anything  happened.  The  people  assembled  at 
church  every  Sunday  in  larger  numbers  than  ever,  to 
learn  something  of  the  war,  and  during  the  very  prayer 
especially  appropriate  to  the  times,  it  often  happened 
that  all  rushed  out  when  a shout  was  heard  on  the  high- 
way or  the  clang  of  the  carrier’s  bell  sounded  disquiet- 
ingly  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake.  In  these  times  a 
musket  was  worth  more  than  a silver  watch,  a rusty 
sword  was  more  valuable  than  the  best  plow,  and  next 
to  God’s  name,  King  Charles  was  the  first  and  the  last 
word,  the  first  and  the  last  hope,  which  was  still  consid- 
ered able  to  exorcise  the  menacing  spirits  of  the  future. 

In  the  year  of  our  Lord  1710  the  storm  broke  loose. 
At  first  it  contented  itself  with  sweeping  away  the 
eastern  fortifications  of  Finland,  moderated  for  a little 
while  afterwards,  but  only  that  it  might  in  a short  time 
break  out  anew  over  the  southern  portion  of  the  coun- 
try, and  then,  irresistible  as  fate,  snatch  away  the  whole 
of  the  interior  and  northern  districts  of  this  extensive 
land.  Nature  and  mankind  seemed  to  have  conspired 
to  favor  its  progress,  and  when  it  finally  became  quiet 
its  waves  had  forever  washed  away  the  southeastern 
portion  of  the  Finnish  peninsula. 

A swift  messenger  had  hardly  reached  Czar  Peter 
with  the  news  of  Mans  Stenbock’s  victory  at  Helsing- 
borg,  before  he  foresaw  that  Stenbock  might  repeat 
Charles  X’s  and  Charles  XII’s  venture  of  crossing  the 
sound  to  Zealand  and  forcing  Denmark  to  make  peace. 
Wishing  to  prevent  this,  he  determined,  with  his  usual 
spirit,  to  give  Sweden  something  else  to  think  of. 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


135 


Besides,  he  had  had  ever  since  1706  an  unsettled  ac- 
count with  Wiborg,  and  he  therefore  let  the  troops  that 
were  gathered  at  Retusaari  start  across  the  ice  for  Fin- 
land. The  2 2d  of  February,  1710,  this  corps  reached, 
by  way  of  Wekkalahti,  the  neighborhood  of  Wiborg, 
but  continued  its  march  and  encamped  at  Hietala  and 
Airontaipale,  three  Swedish  miles  from  the  town,  in- 
tending by  means  of  fortifications  to  entirely  cut  off 
Wiborg  from  connection  with  the  interior.  The  Rus- 
sian strength  at  this  time  was  about  eighteen  thousand 
men  and  fifteen  cannons,  under  Apraxin,  Bruce,  and 
Birckholtz  ; the  soldiers  lived  in  huts  of  snow  and  suf- 
fered very  much  in  the  severe  cold.  General  Lybecker, 
under  orders  of  the  council,  had  retired  from  Wiborg. 
The  man  next  to  him  in  command  was  Colonel  Zach- 
arias  Aminoff,  an  aged  veteran  who  could  hardly  leave 
his  bed ; and  therefore  the  brave  Colonel  Magnus 
Stjernstrale  was  appointed  to  the  command  of  the  cas- 
tle. He  was  a genuine  good  fellow  of  the  quality  and 
caliber  of  those  times,  and  as  he  was  provided  with  a 
brave  garrison  four  thousand  strong,  and  good  stores,  it 
was  not  doubted  that  he  would  turn  back  the  enemy 
with  bloody  heads,  until  Lybecker  should  have  time  to 
come  with  reinforcements. 

All  Finland,  all  Sweden,  all  the  North,  were  looking 
attentively  to  Wiborg  and  Lybecker.  Sweden  had  be- 
fore lost  Noteberg,  Narva,  and  Nyen  ; Wiborg,  strong 
as  iron,  was  the  remaining  key  to  its  eastern  borders 
and  to  Finland  itself.  On  Lybecker  chiefly  depended 
its  preservation.  We  shall  see  what  conception  he  had 
of  the  importance  of  his  position. 

The  bombardment  began  ; the  top  of  the  tower  of 
the  castle  was  shot  away,  and  the  town  had  been  set  on 
fire  three  times,  but  each  time  the  garrison  had  extin- 
guished the  flames.  In  April,  when  the  sea  had  become 
free  of  ice,  a strong  Russian  fleet,  under  High-Admiral 
Apraxin,  arrived  off  Wiborg,  closed  the  entrance  by 
means  of  sunken  obstacles,  and  brought  considerable 


136 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


reinforcements  to  the  besiegers.  The  czar  himself  ar- 
rived shortly  after  with  heavy  artillery,  and  the  united 
Russian  force  then  amounted  to  twenty-three  thousand 
men  with  eighty  cannons  and  twenty-six  mortars.  Day 
and  night  there  was  a rain  of  bombs  and  red-hot  balls 
upon  the  unfortunate  town.  Stjernstrale  returned  the 
salute  as  well  as  he  was  able.  Near  Hietala,  on  the 
other  side  of  Kirisilta  bridge,  is  a stone  which  to  this 
day  is  called  Kasakankivi  or  the  Cossack’s  stone. 
Here,  it  is  said,  Czar  Peter  often  stood  to  watch  the 
town  and  decide  upon  his  plans  of  attack.  The  garri- 
son noticed  this  one  day,  and  pointed  a cannon  towards 
the  stone.  A Cossack  standing  near  saw  the  danger 
and  with  difficulty  succeeded  in  prevailing  upon  the 
czar  to  exchange  places  with  him.  This  was  barely 
accomplished  when  a ball  came  whistling  from  the  cas- 
tle and  took  off  the  Cossack’s  head. 

The  czar  did  not  remain  here  long,  but  returned  to 
Petersburg  with  strict  orders  that  Wiborg  should  be 
taken,  cost  what  it  would. 

The  defenders  bled — the  stores  . decreased.  The 
oppressed  city’s  final  hope  was  in  Lybecker.  In  his 
strength,  supported  by  a levy  from  the  whole  land,  de- 
pended the  key  to  Finland. 

And  who  was  this  Lybecker  to  whom  all  eyes  were 
now  turned  ? He  was  one  of  those  who,  in  a subordi- 
nate position  in  life,  probably  would  not  have  been  bet- 
ter or  worse  than  most  other  mortals,  but  whose  his- 
torical record  makes  them  pay  dearly  for  the  exalted 
position  in  which  chance  has  placed  them  to  their  own 
ruin  and  the  people’s  misfortune. 

Lieutenant  General  Baron  George  Lybecker  had  as 
a brave  and  fortunate  partisan  won  the  favor  of  the 
king,  but  lacked  all  capacity  for  a high  command. 
Much  less  was  he  qualified  for  the  difficult  charge  of 
sustaining  sinking  Finland  at  such  a dangerous  point 
and  of  uniting  its  last  heroic  exertions  in  a judicious 
and  energetic  defense.  As  a man,  he  wasted  his  repu- 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


137 


tation  by  that  mean  parsimony  which  continually 
brooded  over  petty  interests  when  the  dangers  of  the 
times  more  than  ever  demanded  great  thoughts.  As 
a general,  he  had  recorded  his  perfect  incompetency 
during  the  renowned  expedition  against  Ingermanland 
in  1708.  It  was  he  who,  with  fourteen  thousand  men, 
was  on  the  point  of  changing  the  fate  of  the  North  by 
destroying  the  young  Petersburg,  when  he  allowed 
Apraxin  to  frighten  him  by  an  artful  letter  which  was 
placed  in  his  hands,  threatening  with  forty  thou- 
sand Russians  to  cut  him  off  from  the  coast.  Never 
has  a brilliant  feat  of  arms  been  more  miserably  spoiled 
by  a most  shameless  flight.  So  senseless  was  the 
retreat  before  an  imaginary  and  invisible  foe,  that  be- 
sides the  loss  of  other  stores,  six  thousand  horses  were 
shot  or  houghed,  in  order  that  Lybecker  might  get  away 
to  the  Swedish  fleet  under  Anckarstjerna’s  command. 
No  wonder  his  name  in  1710  had  in  Finland  a sorry 
sound,  which  his  later  unfortunate  course  could  only 
make  the  more  hateful.  It  is  true  that  his  military 
forces  were  insufficient  and  his  stores  still  worse,  but 
the  enemy  was  no  better  provided  at  its  first  advance. 
Lybecker  neglected  his  opportunity  to  fall  upon  the 
Russian  army  in  March,  when  it  was  enfeebled  by  dis- 
ease and  by  the  cold,  and  instead  withdrew,  overcome 
by  the  same  groundless  fear  that  hunted  him  from 
Ingermanland,  and  thereby  gave  the  enemy  time  to 
increase  its  force  until  the  prospects  of  the  conflict  be- 
came every  day  more  unequal,  and  Wiborg’s  destruc- 
tion with  every  lost  hour  more  unavoidable. 

One  fine  afternoon  in  the  beginning  of  June  the 
general  sat  in  his  headquarters  at  Keltis  employed  in 
examining  the  paymaster’s  accounts,  which,  as  usual, 
showed  more  unpaid  bills  and  wages  than  cash  in  hand. 
The  heat  somewhat  annoyed  the  valiant  general;  he  had 
brushed  his  peruke  to  one  side,  his  snuff-box  lay  be- 
side him  on  the  massive  oaken  table,  and  now  and  then 
he  gathered  fresh  strength  from  a mug  of  buttermilk, 
6* 


138 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


which  rural  beverage  left  here  and  there  conspicuous 
marks  on  the  outspread  accounts.  To  judge  from  the 
pleasant  smile  which  at  times  appeared  on  the  thin  lips 
of  this  trusted  man,  it  would  seem  that  he  was  per- 
fectly at  home — just  in  his  right  element, — in  this  as  in 
other  things  a prototype  of  his  successor,  field-marshal 
Klingspor,  whom  Finland’s  unlucky  star  a hundred 
years  after  Lybecker  called  to  repeat  the  same  tactics 
with  the  same  result;  two  Fabii  who  each  “ cunctando 
restituit  rent ,”  to  the  especial  satisfaction  of  the  enemy. 

“ What  now,  Rydholm  ! ” said  he  to  the  paymaster, 
who  at  a respectful  distance  awaited  the  result  of  the 
examination;  “ one  hundred  and  thirty-four  dollars  for 
boots  for  the  Nylanders  ? and  one  dollar  a pair  ? Those 
Pjex  shoemakers  deserve  to  he  hanged.” 

u The  men  have  gone  bare-footed  several  weeks, 
your  Excellence.” 

“ And  yet  they  struggle  with  a will  to  march  upon 
the  enemy  ! But  this  is  the  way  they  extort  from  the 
government.  Home-spun  cloth  for  the  Tavastlanders  ? 
If  their  wives  and  daughters  are  so  lazy  that  they  can 
not  keep  them  in  clothes,  tell  them  to  go  without.” 

“ Your  Excellence,  they  have  long  gone  in 
rags ” 

“ And  yet  they  want  to  fight  ! They  should  get 

stripes  on  their  bare  backs What  does  this  say  ? 

A hundred  barrels  of  rye  to  be  delivered  at  Tavastehus  ? 
Are  you  crazy  ? ” 

“ The  Osterbotten  levy  is  on  the  way,  and  not  a bit 
of  bread  is  in  readiness.” 

“ If  the  council  sends  us  a cumbersome  lot  of  trash 
it  may  look  out  for  their  supplies.  Strike  out  the  order 
for  the  delivery;  it  is  no  concern  of  mine. — Lord  ! con- 
trary to  my  express  order  you  have  paid  out  ducats  at 
fourteen  dollars  ! ” 

“ Your  Excellence,”  stammered  the  paymaster. 

“ Not  less  than  fifteen  dollars,  man  ! Fifteen  dol- 
lars and  one  cent,  not  a farthing  less.  The  devil  take 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


139 


you,  sir,  if  you  pass  them  for  less  than  fifteen  dollars; 
you  shall  pay  the  difference  yourself.” 

The  paymaster  hesitated.  “ Your  Excellence  per- 
chance does  not  know  what  evil  tongues  say  of  the 
exchanges ” 

“ So  they  grumble,  do  they  ? Out  with  it,  Rydholm! 
what  do  they  say  ? Is  it  some  of  those  slanderers  that 
have  no  more  sense  or  honor  than  a whipped  pack- 
horse?  What  does  the  rabble  say  about  the  ex- 
changes ? ” 

“ They  say  — I beg  that  it  may  not  be  taken 
amiss.  ...” 

“ Well  ? I take  Russian  bribes,  perhaps?” 

“ No  one  ventures  to  say  that  of  your  Excel- 
lence ! ” 

“ Well ! out  with  it,  or  march  ! ” 

“ They  say  that  your  Excellence  receives  the  gov- 
ernment ducats  at  thirteen  dollars  and  pays  them  out 
at  fifteen.” 

“ Bah  ! Let  them  talk.  The  devil  take  me,  but  I 
will  teach  them  to  talk  when  the  king  comes.” 

“ On  that  account  I thought  we  might  let  the  du- 
cats go  at  fourteen,  to  shut  their  bawling  mouths.” 

“ Fifteen,  I say,  fifteen-two,  for  gold  coin  is  going 
out  of  circulation.  If  the  king  lives  a few  years  longer, 
Rydholm,  ducats  can  not  be  had  for  twenty  dollars. 
Thunder  ! and  I should  become  a beggar  by  your  ex- 
changes. That  would  be  my  thanks  for  wearing  out 
my  boots  in  this  swampy  country — for  taking  com- 
mand of  servants  and  clowns  who  do  not  know  any- 
thing but  to  drink  up  their  pay  in  ale  and  whiskey.  I 
am  expected  to  do  everything,  indeed.  For  a few  pal- 
try hundred  dollars,  which  they  have  scraped  together 
for  me,  I have  to  feed  all  these  sots  with  blood-dump- 
lings and  sausage,  establish  magazines  where  there  is 
nothing  to  store,  make  uniforms  for  all  these  naked 
Lapland  bears,  and  fight  the  Russians  with  a handful 
of  recruits,  dumb  as  oxen  — people  who,  when  they 


140 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


meet  me,  make  their  salute  a quarter  of  an  hour  after  I 
have  passed  them  ! ” 

The  sentry  here  announced  that  an  officer  who 
called  himself  Count  Bertelskold  desired  audience  with 
his  excellence. 

“ Let  him  wait.  I tell  you,  Rydholm,  fifteen  dollars 
and  three  cents  we  must  take  for  ducats.  I shall  be 
impoverished.  I shall  finally  have  to  pawn  the  spurs 
off  my  boots  and  the  scabbard  of  my  sword.  Thunder 
and  lightning  ! — they  think  that  gold  grows  here  like 
crow-berries  ! What  have  you  paid  for  butter  and 
pork  ? Sixty-eight  dollars  for  a few  contemptible  bar- 
rels ! Is  he  possessed  ? One  would  think  that  the  stable 
boys  nowadays  fry  their  pork  in  butter  ! ” 

“ I beg  most  humbly  to  remark  that  the  pork  and 
butter  are  for  your  Excellence’s  table.  The  men,  and 
many  of  the  officers,  have  often  had  to  content  them- 
selves with  half  rations,  and  the  peasants  complain  that 
their  barn-yards  and  hen-houses  have  had  to  furnish 
the  rest  by  night.” 

“ So,  the  peasants  complain  ? I know  nothing  of 
it ; mark  that,  Rydholm,  I know  nothing  of  it.  The 
greasy  country-sots  lie  behind  their  stoves  and  fatten 
themselves,  while  the  defenders  of  the  country  live  on 
bread  and  water.  I’ll  give  them  the  devil  ! Just  let 
the  Russian  come — lightning  ! He  will  teach  them 
where  David  bought  ale.  You  can  haggle  about  the 
hay,  I say.  These  cart-horses  will  eat  me  up  and  the 
government  too.” 

“ The  cavalry  horses  drag  their  legs  after  them 
from  lack  of  fodder,  and  half  the  draft  horses  have 
died.” 

“ Let  them  forage  for  themselves  then.  Shall  we 
eat  hay  ourselves,  so  that  the  horses  may  have  oats  ?” 

“ The  pastures  are  short  yet,  your  Excellence,  and 
all  the  barns  are  empty.  The  peasants  complain  that 
our  cavalry  tramp  down  the  crops  in  their  fields.” 

“ I’ll  have  the  country  bumpkins  hung,  and  the 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


1.41 


commissary  in  the  bargain.  Must  I beggar  myself  for 
their  stinginess  ? You  must  beat  them  down  on  the 
price  of  hay,  Rydholm.  Tell  them  they  must  risk  their 
purses  while  the  soldiers  risk  their  skins  for  the  de- 
fense of  the  country.  I wish  they  had  the  Muscovites 
to  provide  for.” 

“We  might  give  them  bills  on  the  government,  to 
be  paid  when  peace  is  concluded ” 

“ Peace?  You  prate  about  things  you  do  not  un- 
derstand. If  the  devil  does  not  take  the  king,  we  need 
not  expect  peace.” 

“Your  Excellence!”  was  suddenly  heard  from  a 
strange  voice  in  the  door  of  the  room,  and  a tall  officer 
in  the  uniform  of  the  life-dragoons  made  a military 
salute. 

The  general  reddened  perceptibly,  shoved  his  but- 
ter-milk mechanically  to  one  side,  and  surveyed  the 
new-comer  with  a look  of  indignation  and  embarrass- 
ment. “Who  are  you,  smuggling  yourself  in  unan- 
nounced and  disturbing  me  in  my  business  ? ” was  the 
general’s  harsh  inquiry. 

“ My  name  is  Bertelskold,  a major,  and  one  of  his 
majesty’s  attendants.  Smuggling  was  never  an  affair 
of  mine,  and  your  Excellence  will  probably  excuse  me, 
as  I had  myself  announced  a little  while  ago,  but  had 
not  time  to  wait,  as  my  errand  did  not  admit  of  delay.” 

“ So,  indeed — Bertelskold  ? And  an  order  from 
his  majesty  ! You  are  welcome,  major.  Rydholm, 
leave  us  and  go  and  revise  the  accounts.  Remember 
my  orders.” 

“Yes,  your  Excellence,  I will  haggle  over  the  hay,” 
said  the  paymaster,  as  he  retired  with  a satirical  bow. 

“ I have  not  the  honor  of  bearing  any  orders  from 
his  majesty,”  replied  Bertelskold,  who  almost  pitied  the 
general’s  embarrassment.  “ I was  captured  at  Dnieper, 
have  escaped  from  prison,  and  now  come  at  the  head 
of  a troop  of  volunteers  to  offer  my  services  to  your 
Excellence  and  the  country.” 


142 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“ You  are  welcome,  my  good  major,”  repeated  Ly- 
becker,  “ but  I do  not  find  your  errand,  as  given,  at  all 
events,  so  especially  pressing.” 

“ It  was  not  on  that  account  that  I desired  admission,” 
answered  the  major  coldly.  “ During  the  march  hither 
I have  had  the  good  fortune  to  obtain  reliable  informa- 
tion that  the  government  fleet  sent  out  from  Stockholm 
to  relieve  Wiborg  was  obliged  to  turn  back  without 
accomplishing  its  object,  because  the  Muscovites  had 
sunk  obstructions  in  the  entrance  to  the  harbor  and 
had  protected  them  with  batteries.” 

“ Bad,  major,  very  bad.  Stjernstrale  will  be  obliged 
to  surrender  ” 

“ I have  learned  further,  that  the  Osterbotten  levies 
were  on  the  march  to  assist  Wiborg.  The  fourteen  par- 
ishes north  of  Old  Carleby  have  armed  to  defend  the 
northern  boundary,  and  the  fourteen  parishes  south  of 
the  same  town  have  marched  out  under  command  of 
Captain  Faber.  Everywhere  great  enthusiasm  has  pre- 
vailed and  the  readiest  willingness  to  offer  blood  and 
life  for  the  fatherland.” 

“ Pleasing  news,  very  pleasing.  But,  major,  tell 
me  honestly,  for  you  are  an  experienced  soldier, ..what 
the  devil  shall  I do  with  all  this  trash  from  Oster- 
botten ? Without  arms,  without  clothes,  without  disci- 
pline, such  a loose  drove  of  peasants  must  make  dis- 
turbance and  confusion  among  regular  troops,  and  be- 
sides this  they  can  accomplish  nothing  else  than  to 
plunder  the  country  and  die  like  flies  in  the  hospitals. 
What  the  devil  can  I do  with  all  this  rabble  that  the 
government  at  Stockholm  is  pleased  to  send  to  encum- 
ber me  ? ” 

“Your  Excellence  is  right  so  far  as  it  concerns  the 
difficulty  of  disciplining  and  provisioning  the  levies, 
which  nevertheless  ought  to  be  attainable  by  proper 
orders  and  judicious  arrangements.  But  your  Excel- 
lence is  wrong  in  calling  these  honest  peasants  trash 
and  rabble.  They  are  in  truth  the  must  and  marrow 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


143 


of  the  land,  and  their  honorable  and  manly  desire  to 
serve  against  the  enemy  is  entitled  to  a better  name 
and  a better  reception.  Unhappily,  the  whole  levy 
will  probably  be  lost.” 

“ In  what  way  ? ” 

“ Pardon  my  saying  it — through  the  most  incredible, 
the  most  lamentable  carelessness.  A student  just  ar- 
rived from  Osterbotten  reports  to  me  that  a review  was 
held  at  Ilmola,  and  that,  leaving  one  man  on  each  farm 
and  one  or  two  on  those  which  had  already  given  thre$ 
or  four  to  the  crown,  they  have  enrolled  four  thousand 
two  hundred  men,  all  good,  capable  people,  under 
command  of  their  sheriffs  and  parish  clerks,  and  the 
most  highly  esteemed  of  the  peasants.  This  troop 
marched  out,  but  did  not  find  any  arrangements  made 
either  to  clothe  or  feed  them.  To  proceed  soon  be- 
came quite  impossible.  First  the  sheriffs  deserted, 
then  the  clerks,  and  afterward  most  of  the  men,  so  that 
now  of  this  army,  which  could  have  saved  Wiborg,  only 
a few  hundred  in  miserable  condition  have  reached 
Kelt  is.” 

“ Now,  what  did  I say,  major  ? Mere  trash  scraped 
together,  with  no  knowledge  of  military  discipline ! 
God  be  praised  that  we  are  rid  of  them.” 

“ Your  Excellence,  you  can  as  well  say  : God  be 
praised  that  we  are  rid  of  Wiborg,  and  soon  will  be  of 
the  whole  of  Finland  ! ” 

“ Can  I help  it  ? Stjernstrale  will  have  to  capitu- 
late. I have  enough  to  do  to  take  care  of  myself.” 

“No,  your  Excellence,  Stjernstrale  must  not  capit- 
ulate. We  must  save  Wiborg  if  it  costs  the  whole  army 
and  our  right  hands.” 

“ We  ? we  ? The  major  may  be  one  of  the  king’s  at- 
tendants, but  it  is  I whom  his  majesty  has  been  pleased 
to  intrust  with  the  command  in  Finland.  I beg  the 
major  not  to  forget  that  when  he  speaks  of  what  we 
must  do.” 

“ Your  Excellence,  I entreat  you,  for  the  king’s  and 


144 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII . 


your  own  honor,  for  the  welfare  of  the  country,  in  jus- 
tice to  posterity,  which  will  sit  in  judgment  on  our  ac- 
tions,— save  Wiborg  ! If  it  falls,  it  may  be  that  all 
Finland  will  soon  be  lost.  Let  us  not  neglect  for  a 
moment  to  reach  out  and  boldly  seize  the  enemy  wher- 
ever we  can  meet  him ! I understand  your  Excel- 
lence’s scruples;  I know  that  we  are  much  inferior  to 
the  enemy  in  numbers  and  materiel  of  war,  but  we  have 
instead  the  approval  of  our  king  and  our  indomitable 
spirit ; we  protect  our  land,  we  can  at  least  die  for  it. 
A retreat,  an  armistice,  would  paralyze  our  whole  army. 
As  long  as  we  stand  idly  here,  while  we  can  almost 
hear  the  thunder  of  cannon  at  Wiborg,  and  while  every 
day  a part  of  its  walls  tumble  down,  a part  of  its  few 
defenders  bleed, — so  long  is  every  arm  unstrung  and 
every  soldier  a cripple.  But  give  us  the  order  to  move 
forward  to  attack,  and  with  God’s  help  our  arms  would 
be  of  steel  and  the  weakest  among  us  would  be  as  good 
as  ten!  I know  this  people;  your  Excellence  ought 
also  to  know  them.  They  are  not  fit  for  camp  life, 
they  would  work  in  blood  when  they  can  not  work  with 
the  plow  and  harrow.  If  our  king  stood  here  among 
us, — by  my  good  sword,  he  would  not  remain  in  camp 
now,  he  would  fall  upon  the  enemy  Jehu-like  and 
would  hunt  him  like  a wolf  from  his  certain  booty. 
Let  us,  therefore,  make  the  attack  to-day,  now ! I 
lead  a little  company  of  fifty  men,  students  and  dea- 
cons. Grant  us  the  honor  of  being  first  of  the  advance 
guard  to  elbow  the  way.  I swear  to  your  Excellence 
that  if  Wiborg  is  not  by  this  means  set  free  before  the 
next  moon  is  lit  anew,  the  midsummer  sun  shall  shine 
over  the  graves  of  myself  and  comrades  by  its  walls.” 

“ Major,  where  have  you  learned  to  make  so  fine  a 
speech  ? Upon  my  honor,  it  would  be  charming  at  a 
banquet,  but  as  an  old  soldier  and  your  chief , sir,  I 
ought  to  inform  you  that  I did  not  desire  your  counsel 
and  do  not  intend  to  order  my  conduct  by  it.  For  what 
I do  I am  answerable  to  his  majesty  alone,  who  has 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


145 


given  me  positive  orders  ; and  in  obedience  to  them  I 
am  not  authorized  to  engage  in  any  fool-hardy  and  ad- 
venturous enterprises  with  an  insufficient  force.  If 
Stjernstrale  can  not  take  care  of  himself,  I will  not 
sacrifice  the  king’s  troops  for  his  sake,  let  the  result 
be  what  it  may.” 

“ The  result  will  be  that  after  the  fall  of  Wiborg 
you  will  have  the  whole  Russian  force  upon  you.” 

“ That  is  my  affair.  Farewell,  Major.  You  must 
excuse  me  that  important  business  . . . .” 

“ Your  Excellence,  allow  me  at  least  with  my  little 
party  to  make  a raid  on  the  enemy’s  couriers  and  trans- 
ports.” 

“ What  were  you  pleased  to  say?  Students  and 
deacons  ? No,  Major,  I cannot  answer  for  your  sacri- 
ficing them  in  your  hazardous  games.  You  remain  here 
with  your  company  until  I find  a more  fitting  oppor- 
tunity to  make  use  of  you.” 

“ Blood  flows  near  us,  the  cannons  thunder,  Fin- 
land’s outer  walls  fall,  and  you  refuse  to  let  me 
strike  ! ” 

“ I command  you  to  remain,  and  obey  my  order. 
Farewell.” 

“Your  Excellence,  now  I foresee  Finland’s  fate! 
Wherefore  should  a people  so  willing  to  fight,  in  its  mis- 
fortune be  bound  hand  and  foot  to  an  incompetent 
general  ! ” 

These  last  words  the  brave  officer  uttered  half  aloud 
and  left  the  general’s  apartment  with  sorrow  and  bit- 
terness in  his  heart. 


K 


7 


146 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  PLAGUE 1710. 

a ALLANT  WIBORG,  forsaken  by  every  one,  had 
been  compelled  to  capitulate  on  the  ioth  day  of 
June,  and  Stjernstrale  and  the  greater  part  of  his  remain- 
ing forces  were  obliged  to  give  themselves  up  as  prison- 
ers, delivering  to  the  enemy  one  hundred  and  forty  can- 
non, eight  mortars,  and  a multitude  of  military  equipages 
of  all  kinds.  In  the  same  year,  September  3d,  Kexholm, 
with  two  hundred  and  thirty-one  cannons,  forty  mortars 
and  three  hundred  and  eighty-one  thousand  pounds  of 
powder,  fell  into  the  enemy’s  hands  after  its  little  gar- 
rison of  three  or  four  hundred  men  had  defended  it  for 
two  weeks  against  a force  more  than  ten  times  as  strong. 
Ancient  Finland  and  Ladoga  were  thus  forever  lost 
to  the  Swedish  government.  Shocking  outrages  were 
perpetrated  in  the  parishes  about  Wiborg,  the  outburst 
of  the  savage  warriors’  lust  and  avarice — atrocities  the 
memory  of  which  ages  are  insufficient  to  obliterate  and 
which  were  outdone  only  by  the  scenes  of  Osterbotten 
several  years  later.  Rather  than  live  over  again  these 
sorrowful  memories,  we  will  pass  them  by  in  silence, 
only  remarking  that  the  strict  military  discipline  of  the 
Russian  troops  and  the  generally  merciful  treatment  of 
the  country  in  the  late  war  fortunately  can  give  no  idea 
of  the  horrors  of  that  great  conflict. 

But  as  if  the  angels  of  the  judgment  would  pour 
out  all  the  vials  of  wrath  upon  this  unfortunate  period, 
there  came  yet  the  third  angel  of  destruction  to  visit 
that  which  hunger  and  war  had  spared  in  this  devastated 
land.  From  these  gloomy  times  was  brought  forth  a 
new  public  calamity,  a desolating  pest  which  slowly 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


147 


spread  over  the  north  and  west  of  Europe.  It  seemed, 
if  also  of  eastern  origin,  to  have  arisen  with  the  poison- 
ous exhalations  from  the  battle-fields  of  Poland  and 
Galicia,  in  the  midst  of  the  victorious  career  of  Charles 
XII,  in  1707,  and  it  found  everywhere  a fruitful  soil  in 
the  distress  and  anxiety  which  attended  the  war.  A 
mysterious  derangement  in  nature’s  workshop  seemed 
now,  as  during  the  great  famine  years,  to  loosen  the 
joints  of  health  and  life.  Fearfully  cold  winters,  with 
packs  of  wolves,  oppressively  hot  summers,  earthquakes, 
and  death,  were  the  precursors  of  the  plague.  Refugees 
from  Esthonia  and  Livonia,  half-dead  from  hunger  and 
suffering,  spread  destruction  along  the  Swedish  and 
Finnish  coasts.  The  9th  of  September  the  plague, 
brought  by  two  Livonian  women,  reached  Helsingfors. 
The  houses  where  the  disease  appeared  were  at  once 
isolated,  and  all  refugees  arriving  from  the  sea  were 
taken  to  an  island  distant  from  the  rest  of  the  group — 
probably  Mjolo.  But  in  spite  of  this  the  pestilence 
advanced,  and  within  three  months  snatched  away 
eleven  hundred  and  eighty-five  persons  from  this  city, 
at  that  time  so  inconsiderable.  Then  it  burst  out  in 
Borga,  and  six  hundred  and  fifty-two  persons  died, 
after  which  it  spread  farther,  both  along  the  coast  and 
into  the  interior.  The  greater  part  of  Finland,  even  as 
far  as  Uleaborg,  was  visited  by  this  frightful  guest,  but 
with  very  different  results.  In  some  of  the  country  dis- 
tricts, as  for  instance  Janakkala  and  Mantyharju,  more 
than  half  the  population  was  destroyed,  and  entire  vil- 
lages became  extinct.  Others  escaped  much  more 
easily,  while  some  seem  to  have  been  entirely  spared. 

Our  story  now  takes  us  to  Abo,  in  the  middle  of 
October  of  the  same  unfortunate  year. 

Among  the  few  travelers  who  at  that  time,  for 
weighty  reasons  only,  visited  Abo,  was  our  old  ac- 
quaintance Simon  Bang,  corporal  of  Bertelskold’s  vol- 
unteers. His  entrance  was  not  a brilliant  one ; it 
was  accomplished  on  foot,  and  he  led  by  the  bridle 


148 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


an  old  cavalry  horse  which  had  hitherto  borne  him, 
but  now  was  about  dying  from  hunger  and  fatigue. 
Honest  Simon  Bang  hardly  recognized  the  place  of  his 
nativity  ; Abo  had  so  changed  in  a few  months.  A 
hazy,  sultry  south  wind  blew  softly  over  the  city,  the 
smoke  settled  down,  and  the  shores  of  the  turbid  river 
were  covered  with  a thick  green  slime.  The  quays 
along  the  shore,  formerly  so  lively,  were  unoccupied, 
the  halls  of  the  university  were  deserted,  the  streets 
were  empty,  the  market  place  strewn  with  yellow  autumn 
leaves.  Here  and  there  a human  being  anxiously  and 
hastily  stole  along  towards  the  apothecary’s.  The 
open  houses  resembled  newly-made  graves,  and  most 
of  the  windows  were  covered  with  white  curtains. 
Occasionally  a heavy  wagon  rattled  along  the  streets, 
driven  slowly  and  solemnly  by  a man  wrapped  from 
head  to  foot  in  an  oil-cloth  cloak,  and  wearing  over  his 
face  a mask  which  made  him  look  all  the  more  frightful. 
After  this  wagon  ran  screaming  children,  sometimes 
weeping,  sometimes  threatening  with  their  little  hands 
to  strike  the  grim  man  in  the  oil-cloth  cloak,  if  he  did 
not  give  them  back  their  father  or  mother  whom  he  was 
carrying  away  in  his  wagon.  Simon  Bang  was  not  easily 
moved  to  tears,  but  at  this  scene  he  turned  away  his 
eyes  and  a pair  of  great  drops  rolled  down  upon  his 
black,  untrimmed  beard. 

He  approached  the  center  of  the  town,  the  venera- 
ble cathedral.  Its  doors  were  open,  although  it  was  a 
week-day,  and  the  organ  therein  was  playing  a funeral 
hymn  In  the  church-yard  outside  was  a confused 
crowd  of  people.  The  well  known  smith  Wasara-Jaako 
had,  during  the  night,  buried  there  his  wife,  who  had 
died  of  the  plague.  This  was  strictly  forbidden,  it  be- 
ing ordered  that  all  who  died  of  this  disease  should  be 
taken  to  the  new  burying-ground  outside  the  city.  As 
soon  as  the  fact  became  known,  Governor  Palmenburg, 
who  was  not  to  be  trifled  with,  ordered  the  city  police 
to  remove  the  body  and  arrest  the  smith.  But  Wasara- 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


149 


Jaako  was  not  one  to  give  up  readily  what  he  consid- 
ered his  right  as  a citizen  and  a man.  The  desperate 
fellow  struck  about  him  like  a madman,  and  his 
knotty  fists  felled  one  after  another  of  the  police  to 
the  ground.  The  crowd  took  his  part,  the  police  were 
driven  away,  and  the  dead  body  was  again  deposited  in 
the  grave.  It  was  complete  anarchy.  The  bonds  that 
hold  society  in  order  were  on  the  point  of  bursting.  A 
lot  of  drunken  apprentices  and  sailors,  who  the  night 
before  had  plundered  the  wine  cellar  of  a lately  de- 
parted merchant,  bent  on  mischief,  mingled  with  the 
crowd. 

An  old  woman  with  wildly  staring  eyes  and  flowing 
hair  climbed  upon  one  of  the  monuments  and  began  to 
prophesy.  One  after  another  those  who  were  scream- 
ing about  her  became  silent,  and  by  degrees  perfect 
quiet  prevailed  in  the  church-yard.  Everybody  knew 
Inkeri  from  Tyrvis.  She  had  formerly,  as  the  witch  of 
Majniemi,  been  an  object  of  horror  to  the  multitude 
and  the  subject  of  many  judicial  investigations.  Con- 
victed of  sorcery  upon  imperfect  testimony,  she  had 
been  imprisoned  that  she  might  confess  — one  of  the 
last  martyrs  of  that  fearful  witchcraft  period  which  was 
described  in  the  second  of  these  stories.  But  now  peo- 
ple were  no  longer  so  certain  of  the  reality  of  such 
crimes;  the  judges  considered  longer  before  they  con- 
demned any  one  to  be  burned.  And  Inkeri  was  no 
witch  of  the  old  sort.  In  her  confused  imagination 
she  considered  herself  a saint,  a prophetess,  rather 
than  a servant  of  the  devil,  and  was  accustomed  to 
mingle  with  her  conjurations  the  keenest  exhortations. 
Her  madness  would  have  been  perfectly  harmless  if 
she  had  been  left  in  peace,  but  her  judges  were  con- 
founded, and  were  not  certain  whether  a good  or  an 
evil  spirit  spoke  through  her.  So  old  Inkeri  remained 
in  prison  for  years  without  having  her  fate  decided, 
until  now,  during  the  disorders  of  the  plague,  she  had 
escaped,  no  one  knew  how. 


150 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“ Wo,  wo  to  Abo  ! ” she  shouted  with  a frenzy  which 
was  at  once  fired  by  a feeling  of  revenge  for  past  per- 
secutions and  by  a fanatical  belief  in  her  supernatural 
gift  of  prophecy.  “ Wo,  wo  to  thee,  doomed  city,  that 
like  Israel  burned  thy  prophets  and  dragged  thy  proph- 
etesses before  judges  and  cast  them  in  the  rivers,  to  the 
reproach  of  mankind.  I tell  thee  that  fire  from  heaven 
shall  fall  upon  thee  and  sweep  thee  from  the  earth 
when  the  day  of  wrath  shall  come  upon  thee,  and  the 
funeral  fires  shall  blaze  up  and  destroy  thee.  Wo,  wo 
to  thee,  cathedral,  which  hath  opened  thy  doors  to  curse 
things  holy  and  consecrated  ! I tell  thee,  O church, 
that  thy  portals  shall  not  be  closed  before  the  abom- 
ination of  desolation  shall  stand  in  thy  innermost  sanc- 
tuary, and  horses’  hoofs  shall  tramp  within  thee  upon 
the  graves  of  thy  dead.  Wo  to  thee,  river,  which  hast 
swallowed  up  Walborg  Kyni,  my  mother’s  mother,  and 
others,  her  equals,  who  had  the  gift  of  prophecy ! I 
tell  thee,  Aura  river,  that  thy  waves  shall  be  covered  red 
with  blood  and  gray  with  ashes,  and  flames  of  fire  shall 
dry  up  thy  channel,  and  the  keels  of  the  enemy  shall 
throng  thee  like  ice-blocks  in  the  great  spring  flood. 
Wo  unto  thee,  sand-hill,  that  lent  thy  earth  to  the 
witches’  funeral  pyre  ! I tell  thee  that  thou  shalt  be 
clothed  with  the  bones  of  the  unburied,  thou  shalt  be 
watered  with  blood  and  become  the  abode  of  vultures 
and  wolves.  Wo  unto  thee,  O wood,  which  lent  thy 
timber  to  the  pyre  ! I tell  thee  that  thou  shalt  fall  be- 
fore the  ax  of  the  enemy  and  the  flames  of  violence, 
and  shalt  be  destroyed  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  and 
upon  thy  ground  no  grass  shall  ever  grow.  Wo  unto 
thee,  people  . . . .” 

“ Silence  the  crazy  old  woman  ! ” sounded  the  gov- 
ernor’s heavy  voice,  he  having  arrived  on  horseback  to 
restore  order. 

No  one  dared  to  touch  her.  Among  all  that  multi- 
tude no  one  raised  an  arm  and  no  mouth  opened  to 
command  her  to  be  still. 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


151 


“Wo  unto  thee,  people  of  Abo!”  she  continued, 
“ wo  unto  thee  who  bathed  thy  hands  in  the  blood  of 
martyrs  and  sneered  at  their  lamentations  ! I tell  thee 
that  thou  shalt  enrich  thy  lands  and  thy  church-yard 
with  thy  bodies  and  be  scattered  like  dust  before  the 
wind.  Wo  unto  thee,  all  the  inhabitants  of  our  great 
Finland,  whose  sins  cry  unto  heaven  and  shout  for  ven- 
geance ! I tell  thee  that  thine  enemy  is  upon  thee  ; be- 
hold, he  standeth  at  the  threshold  of  thy  hut,  and  he 
shall  enter  in  and  destroy  thee  and  thy  children,  so  that 
not  a gray  hair  and  not  a sucking  child  shall  be  spared, 
and  for  seven  years  he  shall  rule  thee  with  an  iron  scep- 
ter and  scourge  thee  to  death  and  trample  thee  like 
weeds.  Wo  unto  thee,  O king  . . . .” 

“Hew  down  the  accursed  witch,  who  reviles  the 
king!  ” shouted  the  governor,  beside  himself  with  wrath. 
But  fear  had  palsied  every  one; — no  one  stirred. 

“Wo  unto  thee,  O king  ! ” burst  forth  the  woman, 
with  indescribable  frenzy  ; “ wo  unto  thee,  Charles, 
Sweden’s,  Gothland’s  and  Venda’s  King,  who  callest 
thyself  a Christian  prince  and  dwellest  in  league  with 
infidels  and  defilest  the  earth  with  blood  and  abomina- 
tion ! I tell  thee  that  thy  star  hath  set  and  shall  never 
more  arise  out  of  the  night.  Bloody  are  thy  footsteps 
and  in  blood  shalt  thou  tread  misfortune’s  path,  and 
thine  enemies  shall  triumph  over  thee,  and  they  whom 
thou  hast  trusted  most  shall  secretly  take  thy  life  by 
night ” 

The  governor,  provoked  to  the  utmost,  now  pressed 
forward  to  the  seeress,  and  a couple  of  constables 
plucked  up  their  courage  and  stepped  up  to  arrest 
her. 

“Touch  me  not!”  she  shrieked.  “I  have  the 
plague  ! ” 

The  uplifted  arms  of  the  men  sank  down  at  these 
magic  words. 

But  now  the  strength  of  the  unfortunate  woman 
was  exhausted.  She  was  silent  and  stood  quite  still. 


152 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Then  she  sank  slowly  down,  but  her  lips  moved  again 
more  slowly,  and  she  was  heard  to  say:  “ Wo,  wo,  also 
unto  Inkeri.  In  sin  was  she  brought  forth,  in  sin  has 
she  lived  and  spoken,  and  the  spirit  has  come  to 
make  away  with  her  and  take  her  before  the  living 
God. 

With  these  words  she  sank  motionless  to  the  ground. 
They  lifted  her  up.  She  was  dead. 

The  crowd  scattered  under  the  awful  impression  of 
this  event.  The  rebellious  spirit  of  defiance  was  blown 
away  from  the  minds  of  the  multitude.  The  words  of 
the  seeress  had  suppressed  the  storm  like  a sudden 
rain.  The  smith  voluntarily  permitted  them  to  bear 
away  his  wife  ; no  one  uttered  a single  word  in  opposi- 
tion. The  vision  of  the  future,  which  the  dying  woman 
had  set  before  them,  stood  like  a black  shadow  before 
every  imagination. 

“ More  sand,  more  sand  on  the  graves  ! ” again 
commanded  the  governor.  “ Is  that  you,  Bang  ? I 
know  your  errand,  and  have  just  received  an  answer 
from  Stockholm.  The  government  has  granted  your  re- 
quest. To-morrow  a letter  will  go  to  General  Lybecker, 
with  the  royal  senate’s  wish — for  one  cannot  command 
the  general-in-chief — that  Count  Bertelskold’s  volun- 
teers be  permitted  to  operate  by  themselves  to  harass 
the  enemy.  Adieu,  I wish  yourself  and  your  comrades 
good  luck  ! ” 

All  that  autumn  the  foggy,  unhealthy  weather  con- 
tinued, without  wind,  without  rain,  without  frost  or  snow; 
all  the  time  a dull,  cloud-concealed  sky  seemed  to  hang 
like  an  arch  of  lead  over  the  unfortunate  land.  Be- 
neath this  oppressive  atmosphere  the  plague  continued 
its  devastations,  and  a deep  and  gloomy  dejection  pre- 
vailed everywhere.  On  Christmas  evening,  when  the 
world’s  light  had  gone  down  into  the  shadows  of  death, 
the  skies,  hitherto  inexorable,  cleared  for  the  first  time, 
and  Christmas  day,  at  eleven  o’clock  in  the  forenoon, 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


153 


when  the  people  were  coming  home  from  church,  the 
sun,  which  for  long  months  had  not  been  seen,  made 
its  appearance.  With  it,  hope  revived  in  every  wretched 
heart — revived  not  to  be  disappointed.  The  plague 
diminished  rapidly,  and  in  January  of  the  following 
year  entirely  disappeared.  But  its  havoc  had  been 
great.  In  Abo  it  took  away  one  third  of  the  entire 
population,  at  that  time  reckoned  at  not  over  six  thous- 
and seven  hundred  persons.  The  figures  for  the  whole 
of  Finland  are  unknown, — Sweden  alone  is  counted  at 
not  less  than  one  hundred  thousand  human  lives.  The 
court  and  all  in  public  employ  fled  from  Stockholm  ; 
twenty  thousand  died  there,  and  in  Copenhagen  twenty- 
three  thousand.  Many  who  fled  from  the  pest  did  not 
return  to  the  cities  till  late  in  the  winter.  History  still 
preserves  the  account  of  a Finnish  inspector  by  the 
name  of  Johan  Erik  Nordenberg,  an  ancestor  of  the  re- 
nowned family  of  Nordenskiold,  who  fitted  out  a secure 
vessel,  stocked  it  with  all  necessary  supplies,  and  then, 
another  Noah,  went  on  board  with  his  wife  and  his 
children  and  his  servants,  and  for  several  months  cruised 
around  in  the  Aland  archipelago,  and  letting  no  other 
person  or  boat  approach  him,  remained  on  board  his 
vessel  until  the  worst  of  the  plague  season  had 
passed  by. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HEADQUARTERS  AT  BORGA. 

THE  years  17  n and  1712  passed  without  any  note- 
worthy military  events.  The  Russian  corps 
made  a raid  from  Wiborg  ; the  Russian  fleet  showed 
itself  in  the  archipelago,  but  as  Czar  Peter’s  eyes  were 
perforce  anxiously  directed  toward  the  crescent,  he 


154 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


had  no  time  to  think  of  Finland.  The  victor  at  War- 
saw, Count  Nieroth,  an  honest  and  resolute  man,  but 
enfeebled  by  age  and  sickness,  was  put  in  command  in 
Finland  and  made  an  attempt  to  recapture  Wiborg.  He 
failed  for  want  of  artillery  and  provisions.  His  levies 
also,  so  poorly  subsisted  were  they,  were  incapable  of 
carrying  forward  an  orderly  siege,  but  deserted  their 
banners  and  went  back  to  their  homes.  Wiborg’s  fate 
was  written  in  the  stars. 

Nieroth  died  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1712,  and 
in  July  of  the  same  year  the  king  ordered  Lybeckerto 
resume  the  command, — perhaps  just  because  the  council 
had  brought  forward  so  many  complaints  against  him. 

Reports  of  the  Kalabalik  * at  Bender  flew  over 
Europe  on  the  wings  of  rumor,  and  the  czar,  now 
quieted  concerning  matters  in  that  direction,  began 
again  to  look  towards  the  North.  “ Charles  XII  is 
mad  ! ” exclaimed  with  one  voice  the  statesmen  of  that 
time,  and  Czar  Peter  probably  entertained  the  same 
opinion.  At  all  events  the  Swedish  Lion  had  realized 
nothing  from  his  hopes  in  Constantinople,  and  the  czar 
was  now  free  to  complete  his  mastery  of  the  Baltic  by 
the  conquest  of  Finland. 

Helsingfors  received  the  first  stroke  when  the  eagle 
swooped  down.  This  event  is  described  by  Henrik 
Forsius,  in  his  topographical  description  in  the  year 
1755,  in  the  following  words  : 

“ In  the  year  1713,  on  a Sunday  of  public  thanks- 
giving, at  eleven  o’clock  before  noon,  the  Russian  fleet 
arrived  with  hostile  designs  ; and  when  it  advanced 
almost  unperceived  over  Hertonas  sound,  the  Finnish 
regiments  f there  present,  in  their  surprise,  could  not 

* This  is  the  name  given  by  the  Turks  to  the  fight  at  Bender,  where 
Charles  XII,  with  fifty  men,  defended  the  castle  against  ten  thousand  Turks 
and  Tartars  until  it  was  in  flames,  when,  undertaking  to  cut  his  way  out,  he 
stumbled  and  fell  and  was  taken  prisoner. — Tr. 

t Fifteen  hundred  men  under  C.  G.  Armfelt.  Forsius  forgot  to  mention 
that  Armfelt  at  first  drove  the  enemy  back  with  great  loss,  and  only  retired 
when  Czar  Peter  at  the  head  of  his  cannon-boats  attacked  Helsingfors  and 
threatened  to  surround  the  little  Swedish  force. 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


155 


offer  any  considerable  resistance,  but  were  compelled  to 
set  fire  to  the  town,  as  with  streaming  eyes  they  made 
their  escape.  Hereupon,  the  Russians  landed  without 
opposition,  and,  dividing  their  men,  a part  of  them 
sought  to  quench  the  furious  flames  ; — but  they  saved 
nothing  by  their  trouble  except  a few  half  burned  tim- 
bers and  some  warehouses  and  dwellings  near  the  shore. 
Some  of  the  troops  were  allowed  to  follow  at  the  heels 
of  our  flying  people  ; but  they  were  hindered  in  their 
progress  by  our  men,  who,  as  soon  as  they  had  crossed 
over,  burned  the  two  bridges  at  the  Tavast  gates  near 
the  city.  But  the  indefatigable  Russians  made  rafts  of 
the  remaining  timbers  and  set  their  men  across.  Mean- 
while, our  men  found  time  to  collect  at  Gammelstad  for 
resistance,  but  were  yet  in  such  a disordered  condition 
that  they  were  compelled  to  leave  the  place  to  the 
enemy.  Then  the  Russians  became  masters  of  every- 
thing, but  two  days  afterwards,  when  our  Swedish  gal- 
ley-squadron arrived,  they  were  obliged  to  betake  them- 
selves to  Borga,  from  whence  late  in  the  summer  they 
advanced  again  on  Helsingfors,  when,  with  renewed 
courage,  they  subdued  the  city  and  held  it  till  1721. 
The  fugitives,  who  at  this  time  were  safer  with  the  wild 
beasts  than  in  their  own  homes,  now  more  hopeful, 
gradually  began  to  creep  forth.  If  the  Russians  when 
they  went  away  had  not  left  undisturbed  the  barracks 
they  had,  during  their  stay,  built  from  the  many  de- 
molished houses  transported  hither  from  the  neighbor- 
ing country,  the  inhabitants  would  not  have  known 
where  to  lay  their  heads.  Yet,  hoping  for  more  pro- 
pitious skies,  they  willingly  accepted,  in  place  of  their 
well-built  houses  and  valuable  estates,  these  few  hastily 
and  unskillfully  built  barracks  already  falling  to  pieces. 
In  amazement  they  gazed  at  the  ashes  sprinkled  with 
the  blood  of  the  inhabitants,  and  could  with  difficulty 
recognize  their  former  homes.” 

Helsingfors  was  burned,  because  time  and  horses 
were  wanting  to  bear  away  its  rich  stores.  Some  say  it 


156 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


was  done  by  Lybecker’s  orders,  and  it  is  certain  that  he 
was  very  much  censured  by  the  council.  This  Ly- 
becker  had  an  uncommon  faculty  of  bringing  upon 
himself  everybody’s  displeasure  and  indignation.  Along 
in  the  summer,  when  the  Russians  approached,  he 
wanted  to  burn  Abo,  “to  damage  the  enemy.”  It  was 
prevented,  it  is  true,  but  the  very  mention  of  it  awak- 
ened general  exasperation.  Lewenhaupt  seemed  not 
to  have  forgotten  his  exemplar  Lybecker,  when,  twenty- 
nine  years  afterwards,  fleeing  ignominiously,  he  applied 
the  torch  to  Fredrikshanm. 

The  gallant  Charles  Gustaf  Armfelt,  then  major- 
general  and  colonel  of  the  Nyland  infantry,  retired 
from  Helsingfors,  joined  the  principal  Finnish  forces 
at  Borga,  and  awaited  the  conflict.  The  Russian  fleet 
soon  approached,  and  Lybecker  retreated  as  far  as 
Mantsala  and  from  there  still  farther  towards  Tavast- 
land.  During  this  time  the  enemy  harried  the  coast 
and  the  whole  district  about  Borga.  Meanwhile  there 
came  the  censures  of  the  council  and  reinforcements  of 
men.  Lybecker  marched  back  to  Borga,  and  it  is  here 
that  we  find  him  in  the  summer  of  1713. 

Borga,  which  after  the  fall  of  Wiborg  was  the  last 
remaining  city  of  the  east,  had  suffered  much  in  the 
Russian  attack  of  May  nth,  1708,  when  a marauding 
party  of  three  hundred  men  had  succeeding  in  surpris- 
ing the  unfortified  town.  To  be  sure,  eighty  of  the 
young  men  were  sent  to  guard  the  bridge,  and  drove 
the  enemy  back  with  a loss  of  fifty  men;  but  the  next 
morning  the  enemy  landed  again  near  Tarkkis,  slew  the 
defenders’  unorganized  band,  plundered  the  city,  and 
burned  a part  of  it,  together  with  the  surrounding 
estates.  From  this  misfortune  and  the  plague  which 
followed,  Borga  had  not  yet  recovered;  half  of  its  inhab- 
itants were  dead  or  scattered,  and  the  ancient  cathedral, 
with  its  steep,  pointed  roof,  looked  down  in  dumb 
solemnity  on  the  narrow,  half-burned  streets,  and  the 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


157 


crowds  of  soldiers  who  swarmed  about  the  head- 
quarters. 

The  city  and  its  environs  presented  a lively  appear- 
ance. A part  of  the  troops  were  encamped  in  tents  on 
the  high  sand-wall  which  is  called  Borgback,  one  of  the 
remains  of  old  fortifications;  others  again  were  quar- 
tered on  the  nearest  manors,  while  the  levies,  not  be- 
ing supplied  with  tents,  had  thrown  themselves  down  in 
scattered  groups  at  Naseback,  just  in  front  of  the  town. 
The  smoke  of  hundreds  of  camp-fires  rose  toward  the 
blue  August  sky;  drums  sounded  from  the  trampled 
corn-lands  and  plundered  turnip-fields. 

The  Finnish  strength  had  now  increased  to  nine 
thousand  men,  of  whom  about  half  were  regular  troops 
and  the  remainder  levies,  and  all  able  and  ready  for 
the  conflict.  The  consciousness  of  having  defeated  the 
great  Russian  army  at  Narva  with  a much  smaller  force 
than  this,  dwelt  in  every  breast,  and  no  one  doubted  of 
victory.  Finally,  after  so  many  troublesome  and  igno- 
minious retreats,  they  would  have  an  opportunity  to 
fight  in  earnest,  and  for  the  first  time  in  a long  period 
the  Finnish  birches  resounded  with  brave  and  joyous 
war-songs. 

Therefore  when  General  Lybecker,  surrounded  by 
his  staff,  rode  out  to  review  the  troops,  the  soldiers 
forgot  their  old  grudge  and  saluted  him  with  ringing 
hurrahs,  in  the  certain  conviction  that  the  review 
presaged  a bold  attack,  whether  it  were  against  Helsing- 
fors, where  the  enemy’s  strength  was  inconsiderable, 
or  against  Wiborg,  where  sharper  blows  and  greater 
honors  were  to  be  expected. 

These  hopes  were  enlivened  even  to  jubilation  by 
the  news  of  successful  raids  which  Finnish  partisans, 
both  in  the  east  and  the  west,  had  lately  made  to  the 
injury  of  the  enemy.  Colonel  Ramsay,  at  Jackarby,  not 
far  from  Borga,  had,  with  an  independent  company  un- 
der his  command,  raided  to  the  very  gate  of  Helsing- 


158 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


fors  and  brought  away  not  less  than  forty-odd  prison- 
ers, including  two  officers.  In  the  east,  Bertelskold, 
with  his  volunteers,  had  not  only  returned  with  a good- 
sized  transport  from  the  vicinity  of  Wiborg,  but  had 
also  intercepted  a courier  with  important  despatches 
from  the  minister  of  war  at  Petersburg.  Corporal 
Bang,  who  brought  the  despatches  to  the  commander- 
in-chief,  reported  that  a part  of  the  population  of  Karel 
were  under  arms,  commanded  by  the  brave  peasant, 
Sallinen;  that  the  intrepid  partisan  Luukkonen,  with  his 
Lieutenant  Langstrom,  was  operating  in  the  enemy’s 
rear;  and,  finally,  that  Bertelskold  hoped  to  be  able  to 
cut  off  all  connection  between  Wiborg  and  Petersburg 
by  land,  provided  he  could  rely  on  the  advance  of  the 
Finnish  army. 

The  commander-in-chief  received  these  advices  with 
considerable  embarrassment.  He  had  some  time  be- 
fore publicly  commissioned  Luukkonen  as  major  and 
appointed  Langstrom  captain.  But  partisans  were  not 
in  accordance  with  his  taste.  He  pretended  not  to 
hear  the  hurrahs.  He  looked  upon  them  as  direct  chal- 
lenges to  battle;  for  he  understood  his  people.  Sul- 
lenly he  rode  by  the  side  of  Armfelt,  concealing  at  times 
his  embarrassment  by  harsh  remarks  concerning  the 
bizarre  uniforms  of  the  levies  and  their  awkward  way 
of  carrying  a musket. 

“ I will  not  answer  for  these  men  in  the  front  line 
of  a parade,  but  I will  answer  for  them  eye  to  eye  with 
the  enemy  and  in  a volley  at  ten  steps,”  answered  the 
gallant  Armfelt,  with  some  indignation.  “ If  your 
Excellence  was  only  pleased  to  give  them  an  oppor- 
tunity.” 

“ The  lubbers  showed  what  they  were  worth  at 
Wiborg,”  rejoined  Lybecker.  “ Did  they  not  run  to 
the  woods  like  a flock  of  sheep  as  soon  as  they  heard 
the  dogs  bark  ? ” 

“ No,  your  Excellence,  they  did  not  run  from  fear 
of  the  enemy,  they  ran  because  they  were  not  permitted 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


159 


to  meet  him  man  to  man  in  close  combat,  and  they  will  do 
the  same  now  if  they  are  not  permitted  to  fight.  Their 
knapsacks  will  soon  be  empty,  the  crops  stand  unharv- 
ested in  their  grain-fields  and  meadows.  How  can  your 
Excellence  ask  them  to  endure  a tedious  camp-life  with- 
out seeing  any  other  results  than  incessant  marches  and 
countermarches,  while  the  enemy  harries  the  neighbor- 
hood without  hindrance  ! These  people  are  not  made 
for  campaigns,  but  for  battles.  To  hold  our  army  we 
must  fight/’ 

“ We  are  too  weak ; we  must  await  reinforce- 
ments.” 

“ And  while  we  are  getting  a few  hundred  men, 
our  enemy  will  gain  time  to  reinforce  himself  with 
thousands.  While  our  regulars  get  one  or  two  compa- 
nies of  recruits,  perhaps  two  thousand  of  the  levies  will 
desert  their  colors.  The  pleasant  weather  is  going  by, 
and  soon  the  fall  rains  will  make  the  roads  impassable. 
Your  Excellence,  we  must  fight.” 

“ If  the  roads  become  impracticable,  it  is  the  enemy 
that  will  be  most  embarrassed.  It  is  to  our  advantage 
to  delay  him  as  long  as  possible.” 

“ While  the  enemy  advances  with  fire  and  sword  — 
while  the  country  bleeds, — while  anger,  exasperation 
and  shame  fill  every  soul  ! No,  your  Excellence,  as 
the  matter  now  stands  we  must  not  delay,  we  must 
act.  We  have  now  nine  thousand  men,  and  the  enemy 
has  hardly  more  than  twelve  thousand  at  any  one  point. 
If  we  do  not  dare  to  attack  now,  three  weeks  from  this 
time  we  shall  not  have  more  than  one-half  our  present 
force  and  the  enemy  will  have  doubled  his.  No  choice 
is  given  ; we  are  compelled  to  fight ! ” 

“ Major-general,  you  understand  my  opinion  and 
his  majesty’s  explicit  orders.  I wish  to  discontinue 
this  subject  — you  had  better  instruct  your  men  in  the 
rudiments.  Kreutzsapperment ! those  fellows  shoulder 
arms  like  toads  ! ” 


160 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“ Permit  me  a single  inquiry.  Is  it  your  Excel- 
lence’s intention  to  await  the  enemy  here  ? ” 

“ I shall  act  according  to  circumstances.” 

“ But  if  he  attacks  us  I hope  we  shall  make  a stand. 
Our  position  is  advantageous.  ...” 

“ I have  told  you,  General,  that  I shall  act  accord- 
ing to  circumstances,  and  I shall  make  use  of  your 
sword  if  we  need  it.  Will  you  please  to  dine  with 
me  ? ” 

With  a slight  bow  Armfelt  raised  his  hand  to 
his  hat. 

uAuf  Wiedersehen  ! ’ ’ 

And  the  two  generals  parted  ; — Lybecker  pleased 
with  having  avoided  the  farther  remonstrances  of  a man 
whom  he  both  feared  and  hated,  and  by  whose  side  as 
a warrior  he  could  not  but  feel  himself  infinitely  infe- 
rior ; Armfelt,  on  the  other  hand,  irritated,  and,  like 
Themistocles  of  old,  brooding  over  a plan  to  force  the 
commander-in-chief  to  fight  whether  he  would  or  no. 
He  had  hardly  reached  his  quarters  before  he  seated 
himself  and  wrote  the  following  note  to  his  wife  Louisa, 
born  Aminoff,  at  Isnas  : 

My  Beloved  Louise  : 

This  in  haste  to  advise  you  of  a possible  visit  from  me  incase 
we  should  be  beaten  and  compelled  to  make  our  escape  to  Sweden. 
Our  position  here  is  a desperate  one,  the  army  is  in  rebellion,  our 
stores  all  gone  and  our  ammunition  entirely  destroyed  by  the  last 
rain.  I hope  at  least  that  the  enemy  will  not  attack  us  in  this  very 
unfavorable  situation  to-day  or  to-morrow,  for  if  such  a misfortune 
should  occur,  I foresee  our  complete  and  inevitable  destruction. 
In  the  meantime  be  of  good  cheer;  I shall  look  out  for  all  of  us, 
that  in  your  faithful  arms  I may  forget  the  fickleness  of  fortune. 
Kiss  little  Gustaf,  and  have  Stolt  drill  him  assiduously  ; in  a few 
days  perhaps  I shall  be  with  you,  and  within  two  weeks  shall  be 
in  Sweden.  Au  revoir.  Jusqu  cl  la  mort.  Thine, 

C.  G.  A. 

Borga,  Aug.  4,  1713. 

The  general  sealed  his  billet  and  rang.  “Franpois!” 
said  he  to  his  faithful  groom  who  had  accompanied  him 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


1G1 


from  France  and  was  sufficiently  initiated  in  the  weighty 
matter  necessary  to  be  attended  to  in  those  days,  to 
catch  the  meaning  of  a half-sung  song — “ would  you 
like  to  earn  twenty  ducats  ? ” 

The  Frenchman  smiled.  “ Your  Grace  has  a talent 
for  spurring  my  zeal,  which  reminds  me  of  gay  days  of 
yore, — at  Valenciennes  for  example  . . . .” 

“ Silence,  you  lubber.  This  is  not  a question  of 
bachelors’  adventures.  Get  you  a peasant’s  dress  as 
soon  as  possible  and  sew  this  billet  in  your  jacket — but 
not  too  skillfully,  you  understand  ? ” 

“ Not  too  skillfully  ? Well.’' 

“ Betake  yourself  with  some  buckets  and  whatever 
things  you  can  get  hold  of,  out  past  the  enemy’s  sentry 
line;  they  are  hardly  two  miles  from  here  in  Sibbo.  You 
will  be  taken  prisoner — do  you  understand  ? ” 

“ Good  ! I shall  be  taken.” 

“And  released  again, — provided  you  are  not  pre- 
viously hanged.” 

The  groom  made  a comic  grimace. 

“ I hope  this  billet  will  be  your  safeguard.  You  will 
be  examined.  You  do  not  speak.  They  assault  you, 
they  search  you,  and  the  billet  which  you  should  smug- 
gle to  Isnas  is  discovered.  In  order  to  avoid  the  rope, 
you  lie  to  the  best  of  your  ability  about  our  bad  condi- 
tion, and  after  a great  many  objections,  allow  them  to 
prevail  upon  you  to  guide  them  to  the  enemy,  that  they 
may  early  to-morrow  morning  surprise  us.  It  is  quite 
possible  that  Lybecker  will  have  you  hung  when  you 
come,  but  by  that  time  you  will  be  used  to  it.  Stay!  I 
remember  now  that  we  might  get  away  on  the  side  of 
the  camp  toward  Mantsala.  You  must  in  a cunning  way 
call  the  attention  of  the  enemy  to  this,  and  arrange  it  so 
that  a detachment  may  be  in  our  rear,  and  if  possible 
surround  us  on  all  sides.  On  all  sides,  you  hear  ; oh 
that  would  be  fine  ! When  you  are  taken  down  from 
the  gallows  I will  make  you  my  steward  and  double 
your  pay.” 

L 


7* 


162 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“Your  Grace’s  orders  shall  be  scrupulously  fol- 
lowed. I venture  only  one  most  humble  prayer.” 

“ Speak  out.  Not  twenty  ducats  more  ? ” 

“Fie  now,  what  does  your  Grace  think  of  me  ? I 
only  most  submissively  supplicate  that  if  I should  be 
taken  down  a little  too  late  for  my  exalted  station,  that 
your  Grace  would  have  the  following  epitaph  engraved 
on  my  tomb  : ‘ Here  lies  a faithful  lubber  who  lived 

and  died  for  his  master’s  boyish  amusement.” 

“ Good,  good,”  laughed  Armfelt ; “your  desire  is 
reasonable,  and  shall  be  granted.  But  be  off  at  once,  or 
I am  afraid  we  shall  retreat  in  the  morning.” 

“Ah,  my  valiant  General  ! ” said  Armfelt  when  the 
groom  had  departed.  “You  have  invited  me  to  dinner 
to-day  ; would  God  I could  invite  you  to  a good  break- 
fast early  to-morrow  morning.  Frangois  is  no  chicken. 
He  will  feed  them  this  story  like  blood-pudding.  Now 
if  they  only  surround  us  right  royally  ! Grand  dieu! 
I want  just  once  to  see  this  pitiful  retreater  obliged  to 
fight  in  earnest  ! ” 

The  day  passed,  and  Armfelt  was  in  capital  spirits. 
So  outspoken  was  he,  that  he  could  not  refrain  from  an 
occasional  thrust  at  the  commander-in-chief.  The  con- 
versation at  the  dinner  table  turned  on  Rutger  von 
Ascheberg,  when  he  surprised  and  slaughtered  Czarnet- 
ski’s  Polanders  during  the  night  at  Kunitz. 

“ Czarnetski  was  a fool,”  said  Armfelt  ; “ he  should 
have  hamstrung  his  horses  and  run  away  to  the  fleet.” 

Lybecker  was  forced  to  swallow  this  contemptuous 
play  upon  his  renowned  retreat  from  Ingermanland. 
But  Czarnetski’s  fate  must  have  awakened  in  him  some 
slumbering  apprehensions,  for  at  nightfall  he  sent  out 
videttes  in  all  directions  to  watch  the  enemy’s  move- 
ments. 

Armfelt,  on  his  part,  rode  out  among  the  troops  and 
satisfied  himself,  without  letting  it  be  noticed,  that  every 
sentry  was  on  watch  and  that  all  the  scattered  divisions 
could  be  readily  drawn  together.  From  the  camping 


THE  FUGITIVE 


163 


ground  of  the  levies  he  had  all  the  spirits  secretly  re- 
moved, and  the  Nylanders,  under  pretense  of  an  early 
review,  were  ordered  to  sleep  in  full  uniform  and  with 
loaded  muskets. 

The  night  was  already  far  advanced  when  one  of 
the  videttes  returned  at  full  speed  to  Lybecker  with 
the  report  that  on  the  side  toward  Sibbo  he  dis- 
tinguished the  dull  sound  of  the  marching  of  a large 
force  of  cavalry.  Shortly  thereafter  came  another,  and 
then  a third,  with  similar  reports  that  the  enemy  was  in 
motion  along  the  whole  Mantsala  side.  Lybecker,  who 
could  not  be  denied  the  merits  at  least  of  being  a 
prudent  general,  had  all  his  cavalry  horses  immediately 
saddled  and  marched  towards  the  threatened  point  at 
the  north,  after  which  the  infantry  received  orders  to 
break  camp,  the  baggage  was  brought  together  and 
what  could  not  be  carried  along  was  burned  or  de- 
stroyed. 

Armfelt  foamed  with  rage.  His  plan  had  been  pre- 
maturely discovered,  but  he  still  hoped  above  all  that 
the  enemy  would  attempt  to  take  advantage  of  the  evi- 
dent confusion.  In  vain.  The  Russians,  seeing  them- 
selves foiled  in  their  expectation  of  finding  the  Finns 
unprepared,  did  not  follow  up  the  attack  but  drew  back 
to  their  former  position.  A slight  skirmish  between  the 
Cossacks  and  the  Nyland  cavalry  was  the  only  result  of 
this  exceedingly  dubious  night-surprise. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  when  the  army  after  four 
days  forced  march  halted  in  Pelkane,  the  indignation  of 
the  Finnish  army,  so  long  restrained,  burst  into  flames. 
The  officers,  and  foremost  among  them  the  soldiers’ 
favorite,  the  valiant  Armfelt,  had  the  greatest  difficulty 
to  prevent  a general  mutiny. 

“ Why  are  we  not  allowed  to  fight  ? ” shouted  the 
soldiers,  and  in  their  indignation  spit  upon  the  written 
order  of  the  day  in  which  the  commander-in-chief  en- 
joined order  and  military  discipline  during  the  new  re- 
treat. 


164 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“ Why  may  we  not  fight  ? ” repeated  the  levies,  be- 
side themselves  with  rage.  % “ Have  we  marched  so 
many  miles  from  our  homes  and  patiently  endured  every 
hardship  for  the  sake  of  dishonorably  turning  back 
without  firing  a shot  while  the  enemy  takes  away  our 
lands  ? ” 

“ Why  do  we  slink  around  the  country  like  hunted 
hares,  the  scorn  and  ridicule  of  the  enemy  ? We  de- 
serve to  have  the  boys  in  every  village  point  their 
fingers  at  us  and  to  have  our  own  women  hunt  us  home 
with  brooms  ! ” 

“ Our  highest  officer  runs  away  from  the  drum  like 
a hare  ! Shall  we  permit  our  country  to  be  betrayed  ? 
Shall  we  suffer  our  wives  and  children  to  be  sold  like 
plucked  hens  to  the  first  Muscovite  that  scares  the  gen- 
eral to  the  woods  ? ” 

Let  us  hunt  up  the  biggest  crock  to  be  found  in 
Pelkane  village,  and  stuff  the  general  into  it  and  throw 
him  into  the  water.  If  there  was  any  harm  it  would  be 
to  the  crock.” 

“ Yes,  boys,  and  then  we’ll  take  Armfelt  for  com- 
mander.” 

“ And  then  we’ll  go  against  the  enemy  anew  — and 
that  time  go  to  stay  ! ” 

“ What  now,  you  shameless  rascals  ! ” shouted  Arm- 
felt,  who  was  just  riding  by.  “ Do  you  not  know  the 
laws  of  war,  and  what  it  is  to  make  revolutionary 
speeches  against  your  commanding  officer  ? ” 

Hurrah  ! hurrah  for  Armfelt ! ” was  the  soldiers’ 

reply. 

“ Live  the  king  ! ” replied  Armfelt.  “ Be  patient, 
boys  ! No  mutiny,  for  then  ropes  would  be  found.  So 
help  me  God,  I tell  you  we  shall  have  a fight,  if  not 
to-day,  then  another  day.  Now  keep  your  mouths  shut. 
I am  going  to  see  the  general.” 

Armfelt  went,  and  found  Lybecker  exchangingsome 
hard  words  with  a deputation  of  the  levies  headed  by  a 
stately  young  peasant,  Lars  Larsson,  from  Storkyro,  one 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


165 


of  their  self-chosen  leaders.  Lybecker  had  as  usual 
received  the  militia  with  contempt,  and  called  them  vag- 
abonds and  beggars,  who  were  good  for  nothing  but 
to  eat  up  the  army  stores  like  rats. 

The  peasants  were  enraged  to  the  last  degree.  “ We 
won’t  take  any  of  your  insults,  General  Backward,  or 
whatever  your  name  is  ! ” burst  out  young  Larsson 
angrily  in  Finnish.  “ We  are  neither  vagabonds  nor 
beggars,  but  free,  honest  peasants,  who  have  come 
hither  to  hazard  life  and  limb  for  our  king,  but  not  to 
be  nicknamed  by  such  lords  as  you,  whose  greatest 
courage  is  in  their  uncivil  mouths.  We  are  not  the 
scum  of  the  land,  but  rather  its  pith  and  substance,  the 
timber  of  which  King  Charles  has,  for  the  past  thirteen 
years,  built  the  armies  that  have  won  his  victories.  And 
this  will  we  tell  you,  general:  Since  you  have  so  little 
respect  for  the  king’s  judgment  that  you  will  not  let 
us  make  a stand  and  fight,  but  intend  to  make  us  play 
the  fool  by  running  about  the  country,  we  free  peasants 
will  bid  you  good-day  and  go  home  and  leave  you  to 
answer  before  God  and  the  king  how  you  have  taken 
care  of  this  unfortunate  country.” 

“ Arrest  the  traitor!  ” shouted  the  general  to  the 
guard  at  the  door. 

But  Armfelt  stepped  between  them.  “ Let  them 
go,  general  ! ” said  he,  with  that  fine  gravity  which 
now,  after  more  than  a hundred  years,  one  so  much 
admires  in  the  statue  of  that  proud  and  heroic  Carolin. 
“ Let  them  go  if  your  life  is  dear  to  you,  for  it  hangs 
on  a single  hair  ! ” 

Lybecker  turned  pale.  “ What  language,  general!  ” 
said  he,  as  he  beckoned  to  the  peasants  to  retire.  “ I 
have  long  known  that  you  too  were  among  my  enemies, 
but  I.  did  not  believe  that  you  would  venture  to  defy 
the  king’s  orders  in  my  person.  No,  my  dear  sir,  you 
shall  not  take  my  place  so  easily.” 

“ For  shame  ! ” said  Armfelt,  when  he  was  satisfied 
that  they  were  alone.  “ For  shame,  general,  thus  to 


166 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


address  a man  but  for  whom  the  whole  army  would  at 
this  moment  be  in  insurrection.  Your  faint-heartedness 
and  your  perverseness  have  given  the  land  as  a prize 
to  the  enemy  and  brought  both  the  regulars  and  the 
militia  to  the  verge  of  despair.  I exhort  you  for  the 
last  time  to  change  your  tactics  and  make  a stand 
against  the  enemy.  If  you  refuse  to  do  this,  I can  no 
longer  answer  for  the  men.M 

* “ That  is  my  affair.  I obey  the  king’s  orders,  and 
do  not  need  your  advice.” 

“ Finland  is  lost,  and  that  through  you  ! Think, 
general!  this  ignominy  will  attach  to  your  memory  to 
the  latest  posterity.” 

“ Have  you  anything  more  to  say  ? ” 

“ Yes.  I see  that  you  shut  your  ears  both  to  rea- 
son’s and  to  honor’s  voice.  Well,  then,  the  govern- 
ment shall  be  the  judge  of  your  conduct.  I shall  act 
in  the  matter  as  duty  and  honor  bid.  Farewell.” 

And  Armfelt  went,  leaving  Lybecker  nonplussed 
and  apprehensive.  The  general  sadly  suspected  that 
he  had  played  out  his  role,  and  his  suspicions  proved 
true.  The  retreat  from  Borga  was  decisive.  The  peas- 
ants left  the  army  by  crowds,  and  a great  many  of  the 
regular  soldiers  followed  their  example.  A few  weeks 
after  this  unfortunate  countermarch,  the  Finnish  army 
had  without  a battle  melted  away  to  less  than  half  its 
strength,  and  privation  and  despondency  had  palsied 
those  who  remained  under  its  banners. 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


167 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  PARTISANS  ON  THE  BORDER. 

OF  the  twenty  students  and  sixteen  deacons  who 
marched  out  from  Abo  in  1710,  about  half  were 
scattered  by  the  middle  of  the  summer  of  1713. 
Some  had  fallen  before  the  plague,  some  before  the 
enemy’s  balls,  and  five  or  six  had  preferred  to  serve 
under  Armfelt  among  the  regular  troops.  On  the 
other  hand  Bertelskold’s  renown  as  a brave  partisan  had 
brought  to  his  standard  many  young  men  from  all 
classes  of  society,  from  among  whom  he  had  been 
pleased  to  select  twenty  of  the  most  serviceable,  while 
he  sent  the  remainder  to  serve  in  Armfelt’s  ranks. 
Bertelskold’s  independent  company,  therefore,  at  the 
time  Lybecker  made  his  famous  retreat,  consisted  of 
only  thirty  men,  but  such  ones  that  each  considered 
himself  a fair  match  for  ten; — brave,  crafty  fellows,  who 
knew  every  nook  and  hiding-place  in  the  neighborhood 
better  than  if  they  had  been  born  there,  and  who,  like 
a thunderstorm,  burst  forth  from  the  woods  upon  the 
unsuspecting  enemy,  and  as  suddenly  disappeared  after 
having  inflicted  the  greatest  possible  injury.  Several 
such  independent  companies  ravaged  in  the  enemy’s 
rear,  carried  away  his  couriers  and  transports,  attacked  or 
destroyed  or  made  prisoners  his  scattered  detachments, 
and  brought  to  naught  more  than  one  well  considered 
plan  of  operations.  Unable  to  reach  the  partisans 
themselves  in  their  inaccessible  places  of  concealment, 
the  enemy  often  avenged  himself  terribly  on  the  neigh- 
boring inhabitants,  who,  certainly  not  without  reason, 
were  suspected  of  being  connected  with  the  freebooters 
and  favoring  their  undertakings.  Writers  of  a later 


168 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII . 


date,  like  Lencquist,  have  on  this  account  regarded  the 
partisans  as  very  mischievous,  since  they  drew  the  ven- 
geance of  the  enemy  upon  so  many  innocent  persons. 

But  it  is  certain  that  the  people  were  pleased  to 
assist  “the  little  war,”  and  had  the  partisans  received 
any  support  from  the  regular  forces,  they  would  cer- 
tainly have  contributed  largely  to  the  country’s  deliver- 
ance. In  the  traditions  of  the  people  their  exploits  live 
to  the  present  day,  and  even  now  the  old  man  in  the 
Lapland  hut  tells  his  wondering  listeners  of  the  brav- 
ery of  Luukkonen  and  Langstrom  and  others ; of 
Kivekat,  Harkmaunin,  and  more  of  those  shadows  of 
the  past  which,  in  the  mysterious  obscurity  of  history, 
have  obtained  an  almost  mythical  significance. 

During  the  year  1710,  and  up  to  and  including  the 
year  1713,  Old  Finland,  or  more  correctly  the  district 
around  Wiborg  and  the  southwest  coast  of  Ladoga, 
was  the  arena  particularly  appropriated  to  the  Finnish 
partisans.  It  is  here  also,  in  August  of  the  year  last 
mentioned,  that  we  again  find  Bertelskold  and  his  men 
in  one  of  the  great  forests  in  Kivinebb  parish,  not  far 
from  Rajajoki  and  north  of  the  great  road  leading  from 
Petersburg  to  Wiborg. 

It  was  night,  and  the  darkness  of  autumn,  now  be- 
ginning, had  already  cast  its  long  shadows  over  the 
spreading  pines,  while  a flaming  wood-fire  lighted  the 
rocks  and  hillocks  between  their  tall,  mossy  trunks. 
According  as  the  light  flashed  up  or  died  away,  its  fan- 
tastic glare  fell  upon  more  remote  or  near  objects,  and 
in  this  uncertain,  flickering  light,  the  giants  of  the  for- 
est seemed  to  crowd  more  closely  around  the  fire,  while 
the  owls  flitted  from  branch  to  branch,  and  the  wolves,* 
frightened,  concealed  themselves  in  the  inaccessible 
clefts. 

Around  the  fire  sat,  or  rather  half  lay,  twenty  well- 

* After  Kivinebb,  at  a later  time,  became  included  in  the  great  real  estate 
grants,  its  wolves  became  fatally  notorious.  Year  after  year  children  were  car- 
ried off  from  the  villages,  while  the  people  were  forbidden  to  own  fire-arms  lest 
they  might  do  harm  to  the  game  belonging  to  the  owners  of  the  estate. 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


169 


armed  men  in  Russian  soldiers’  cloaks,  showing  that 
they  maintained  their  wardrobe  as  they  did  their  larder, 
by  booty  from  the  enemy.  They  had  just  finished  their 
frugal  meal,  and  a silver  beaker  with  tolerably  potable 
wine — also  booty — passed  around  the  company.  Time 
and  again  some  uncommon  sound  in  the  woods 
attracted  their  attention,  but  after  they  had  listened 
and  convinced  themselves  that  it  was  only  the  sentinels’ 
call  to  each  other  not  far  away,  or  the  sighing  of  the 
wind  among  the  tall  pines,  they  resumed  their  conver- 
sation with  a cheerful  gayety  which  showed  that  they 
had  already  learned  to  accustom  themselves  to  their 
adventurous  life  in  the  forests. 

“Bang  ought  to  be  back  by  this  time,”  said  Bertel- 
skold,  “ and  I hope  with  good  news.  If  we  only  had 
the  army  twenty  miles  nearer,  I would  promise  Bruce 
at  Wiborg  that  he  should  see  the  spook  by  day- 
light.” 

“ And  dream  every  night  of  the  Wiborg  explo- 
sion,” interrupted  Miltopoeus,  one  of  the  former  pris- 
oners of  Abo. 

“ I hope  for  nothing  until  I see  Lybecker  taken  along 
the  streets  of  Abo,  riding  backwards  on  a starved  bag- 
gage horse,  dressed  in  sheep-skin  and  his  hat  trimmed 
with  a long  pair  of  hare’s  ears,”  added  Israel  Peldan, 
also  one  of  the  former  inhabitants  of  the  prison. 

“ Away  with  all  hare’s  ears ! ” resumed  Bertel- 
skold.  “ Let  us  empty  this  beaker  to  the  success  of  our 
expedition  to-morrow.  Fifteen  wagons  with  powder, 
six  caissons  of  bullets,  eight  hundred  Saxon  muskets, 
besides  pork  and  brandy,  caviar,  fruits,  and  other  deli- 
cacies for  the  czar’s  own  table,  for  they  say  he  intends 
to  visit  Wiborg; — that  will  be  something  worth  earn- 
ing, boys  ! I have  it  from  a reliable  source;  old  Eero 
has  himself  been  with  the  transporting  party,  and  it  is 
now  resting,  scarcely  a mile  from  Rajajoki.  The  devil 
knows  why  they  did  not  send  all  these  goods  safely  by 
water,  but  perhaps  they  had  a scent  of  the  Swedish 
8 


170 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


fleet.  It  is  true  that  we  shall  have  to  deal  with  about 
two  hundred  men  besides  the  luggage,  but  there  are 
hardly  forty  Cossacks.  And  with  the  remainder  we 
shall  fight  our  way  out.  ...” 

The  savage  men  at  the  fire  smiled  in  their  beards. 
They  had  respect  for  the  Cossacks;  they  were  a brave 
people;  but  they  could  make  it  all  right  with  forty  com- 
rades from  the  Don. 

“ I have  looked  out  for  the  caltrops  here  and  there 
along  the  road,  so  that  a part  of  their  horses  will  surely 
be  lame.  Besides,  we  will  allure  them  into  the  woods 
by  false  alarms.  Eero  has  a boy  that  can  blow  signals 
to  compete  with  a trumpeter  in  the  life  dragoons,  and 
the  Cossacks  finally  will  not  know  where  they  live.  It 
is  too  bad  that  Langstrom  and  Luukkonen  are  not 
with  us.” 

“ They  always  wanted  to  be  their  own  masters,  so 
let  them  take  their  chances  ! ” said  Miltopoeus.  Envy 
had  found  its  way  even  to  these  brave  freebooters’ 
hearts. 

“ Now,  by  my  father’s  shade  ! ” replied  Bertelskold, 
enraged,  “ you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  to  talk 
so  of  a man  that  serves  his  country  better  than  you  and 
I both.  It  is  three  weeks  since  they  disappeared,  and 
probably  their  honest  Finnish  blood  now  waters  Rus- 
sian soil.  I would  give  my  left  hand,  if  thereby  I could 
buy  them  back  to  their  fatherland  ! ” 

These  words  were  hardly  uttered  when  the  sentry 
on  the  east  side  called  out,  and  steps  were  heard  in  the 
woods.  The  men  by  the  log-fire  sprang  up  and  seized 
their  guns,  prepared,  as  they  must  always  be,  to  fight 
for  life  against  an  unequal  foe,  who  often  hunted  them 
like  wild  beasts  and  sought  to  annihilate  them  at  what- 
ever cost. 

It  was  not  long  before  two  men  came  forward  to 
the  fire,  clad  in  prison  clothes  and  so  covered  with  dirt 
and  dust  that  it  was  next  to  impossible  to  recognize 
them. 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


171 


“ King  Charles  ! ” the  men  cried,  and  sank  down  by 
the  fire,  tired  even  to  fainting,  being  unable  to  utter 
more  than  these  two  words,  the  partisans’  common  pass- 
word and  token  of  recognition. 

“ Luukkonen  ! Langstrom  ! ” shouted  Bertel- 
skold,  with  glad  surprise.  “ Here  with  the  silver  beaker  ! 
The  poor  devils  look  as  though  they  had  come  direct 
from  the  infernal  regions  ! ” 

“ From  Moscow  ! ” groaned  Luukkonen,  after  he 
had  somewhat  recovered.  “From  Moscow,  or  rather 
from  the  gallows  ! Another  swallow,  comrades  ! 
Thanks  ! We  have  been  six  days  on  a wolf  hunt — 
hidden  in  bogs  while  the  Cossack  pikes  whistled  about 
our  ears.  No  matter  — we  are  here  again,  and  bring 
good  news.” 

The  men  camped  down  around  the  fire  by  the  new- 
comers, shook  their  hands  heartily  and  urged  them  to 
tell  their  adventures. 

“ Well,  then,”  answered  Luukkonen,  while  Lang- 
strom kept  silent  and  drank,  and  then  drank  and  kept 
silent,  until  from  weariness  he  slept  where  he  sat.  But 
the  wine,  and  the  danger  fortunately  passed,  had  loos- 
ened the  tongue  of  the  laconic  Finn.  “ It  can  be  made 
a long  story,”  continued  he,  “ or  it  can  be  made  a short 
one.  We  had  heard  some  talk  about  the  powder  trans- 
port which  is  now  on  the  road,  and  we  were  out  on  a 
scout  towards  Systerback.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
we  had  the  Cossacks  upon  us,  and  after  several  of  them 
had  bitten  the  grass  they  caught  us  and  took  us  at  once 
to  Petersburg.  It  turned  out  that  they  recognized 
Langstrom  by  the  rags  of  his  uniform,  and  so  they  took 
us  both  to  the  czar.  After  he  had  examined  us  a little 
and  we  had  lied  as  well  as  we  could  in  the  hurry,  he 
cut  the  matter  short  by  saying:  ‘ To  the  gallows  with 
that  dog  ! ’ As  I had  on  my  peasant  jacket  I was  able 
to  see  the  point,  and  began  at  once  to  cry,  ‘Your  im- 
perial grace,  I am  an  officer  ! ’ and  as  good  luck  would 
have  it,  I had  my  major’s  commission  in  my  breast- 


172 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


pocket.  The  czar  ran  his  eye  hastily  over  it,  and 
frowned.  It  don’t  do  to  fool  with  him  when  he  does 
that,  and  all  who  were  standing  around  began  to  trem- 
ble like  aspens.  But  he  threw  the  commission  back  to 
me  and  said:  ‘Am  I obliged  to  know  every  mole  ? 
Give  the  men  a tankard  of  whisky  and  send  them  to 
Moscow;  they  may  be  of  service  to  us.’  Then  he  put 
on  a kinder  look,  slapped  us  on  the  shoulder,  and  said 
in  Swedish:  ‘A  singed  dog  is  a good  dog!’  And 
then  he  said  in  Russian  that  he  liked  us  because  we 
fought  so  like  young  devils,  and  we  must  teach  his  men 
to  drill,  he  said.  God  forgive  me,  I came  very  near 
liking  the  Muscovite  ! Next  to  our  own  king,  I hardly 
know  a doughtier  fellow.” 

“ Well,  what  else  ? You  had  a good  long  road  to 
Moscow.” 

“ No,  we  did  not  get  so  far  as  that.  They  drove  us 
in  a prison  cart  and  sent  an  escort  of  four  men  with  us. 
The  third  or  fourth  night  we  lay  at  a grocery,  and  our 
guard  had,  as  usual,  taken  some  refreshments.  I lay 
awake — I could  not  sleep  because  my  wrists  ached  with 
the  bands.  ‘Are  you  awake,  Langstrom  ? ’ I asked. 
‘ Yes,’  said  he,  ‘ I think  we  can  get  away.’  ‘That  is  just 
what  I was  thinking,’  said  I ; ‘if  I could  only  get  these 
devilish  bands  loose.’  ‘ Turn  over,’  said  he,  and  in  five 
minutes  he  had  gnawed  off  the  band.  Then  I loosed 
him  and  we  took  the  soldiers’  weapons  and  cloaks  while 
they  slept,  and  some  food  in  a knapsack,  and  left.  But 
Langstrom  was  angry  at  one  of  the  rascals  who  was 
snoring  on  the  floor,  for  having  given  him  a rap  the  day 
before,  and  as  the  fellow  was  very  attentive  to  his  long 
brown  beard,  Langstrom,  just  as  we  were  going,  took  a 
pair  of  shears  and  clipped  off  his  beard,  when  the  brute 
waked  up  and  began  to  give  the  alarm,  whereupon  we 
hit  him  over  the  ears  and  rushed  out.  We  had  the  good 
luck  to  fasten  the  door  on  the  outside,  and  so  we  just 
nicely  got  us  a pair  of  horses  from  the  stable  and  set 
off  in  the  dark  without  knowing  whither,  with  the  whole 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


173 


village  at  our  heels.  At  last  we  came  to  a swamp  and 
had  to  let  the  horses  go,  and  get  down  on  our  backs  in 
the  mud  and  stay  there  all  the  next  day.  The  next 
night  we  continued  our  journey,  and  so  on,  night  after 
night  for  eight  nights,  living  on  turnips  and  berries,  and 
stealing  horses  in  the  villages  whenever  we  had  a 
chance.  One  evening  we  came  up  with  two  girls,  each 
of  whom  was  carrying  a crock  of  milk  ; it  rained  a 
shower,  and  the  poor  things  were  freezing.  4 Wait  a 
little,’  called  Langstrom.  Then  we  drank  their  milk 
and  gave  them  our  cloaks  in  exchange.  That  is  the 
reason,  comrades,  why  we  now  must  pay  our  respects 
in  these  rags.” 

“ No  need  of  that  ! ” said  Bertelskold.  “ Great 
Novgorod  has  looked  out  for  our  wardrobe.  Well, 
comrades,  as  our  lucky  stars  have  brought  us  together 
again,  will  you  join  us  in  a good  coup?" 

“ I intended  to  ask  you  the  very  same  thing,”  re- 
plied Luukkonen. 

“You  have  a mind  to  take  the  powder  transport 
then  ? ” 

“ Bother  myself  about  a few  miserable  barrels  of 
powder  ? Better  than  that.” 

“ Well — not  a whole  arsenal  ? ” 

“ Better  yet  ! ” 

“ Prisoners  to  take  ? A colonel  ? ” 

“ Better  yet ! ” 

“A  general  ? ” 

“ Better  yet ! ” 

“ What,  man,  you  do  not  think  of  lying  in  wait 
for  . . . .” 

“ The  czar  ! ” 

“ Explain  yourself  ! ” 

“ I learned  by  one  of  our  Kivekats  * who  was  rov- 

* Kivekat  is  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  popular  traditions  of  this  time.  It  is 
uncertain  whether  or  not  this  appellation,  meaning  stone-hand  or  stone- 
thrower , is  a common  name  for  those  among  the  partisans,  who,  on  account  of 
a lack  of  ammunition,  were  accustomed  to  throw  stones  at  the  enemy,  or  were 
for  any  other  reason  considered  uncommonly  hard-handed. 


174 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


ing  about  in  that  vicinity,  that  the  czar,  attended  by  a 
few  faithful  men,  will  dine  to-morrow  at  Mensche- 
koff’s  country-seat  near  Bjeloostrow,  four  miles  from 
here.  As  I had  no  prospect  of  getting  together  more 
than  ten  or  fifteen  men,  and  poorly  mounted  at  that,  I 
hurried  to  find  you  and  ask  you  to  share  the  honor  and 
the  danger.” 

“ Capture  the  czar  ! ” 

“ Why  not  ? He  is  a brave  fellow,  and  his  body- 
guard will  defend  him  to  the  last  drop  of  blood.  But 
we  are  no  milk-sops  either.  What  does  it  matter  if  half 
of  us  never  come  away,  if  the  remainder  only  succeed 
in  doing  more  than  an  army,  more  than  King  Charles 
himself  ! ” 

“ Luukkonen,  you  are  a peasant,  and  I bear  the  title 
of  count,  but  this  brave  thought  ennobles  you  far  above 
all  the  counts  in  the  kingdom  of  Sweden  ! You  are 
right  ; what  does  it  matter  if  you  and  I and  all  of  us 
fall  in  this  affair  if  barely  two  of  us  remain  to  conduct 
such  a precious  booty  to  a place  of  safety  ! Here  is 
my  hand  ; we  will  risk  the  attempt.” 

“ Luukkonen!”  exclaimed  Miltopceus,  and  in  his 
turn  shook  the  brave  peasant’s  hard  hand  ; “ it  so  hap- 
pened a little  while  ago  that  I said  some  very  foolish 
words  about  you.  I now  take  it  all  back,  and  whoever 
says  otherwise  of  you  than  that  you  are  the  crown  of  all 
the  capable  fellows  between  Aura  and  Rajajoki,  shall 
find  that  he  has  me  to  deal  with.” 

“ Luukkonen  shall  have  the  command  of  this  expe- 
dition,” resumed  Bertelskold.  “ I,  and  we  all,  place 
ourselves  under  his  orders.” 

“But  the  powder  transport — the  muskets — the  caviar 
and  all  the  other  delicacies  ? ” said  Peldan,  who  possi- 
bly had  nothing  against  high  living  in  the  woods  for  a 
while. 

“ To  catch  the  eagle  we  must  let  the  field-fare  flit,” 
answered  Bertelskold.  “Not  the  least  sound  must  be 
heard  of  any  movement  in  the  neighborhood  before  we 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


175 


reach  Bjeloostrow.  We  await  your  orders,  Major 
Luukkonen.” 

As  good  a plan  was  matured  as  the  circumstances 
would  permit.  They  were  to  break  camp  without  delay, 
take  advantage  of  the  darkness  to  press  forward  as  far 
as  possible  along  the  forest  roads  towards  Ingerman- 
land,  and  then  rest  at  daybreak.  Thereupon,  Luukko- 
nen’s  and  Bertelskold’s  united  strength,  which  very  little 
exceeded  forty  men,  should  approach  the  country-seat 
in  small  parties  from  different  directions,  disguised  as 
peasants,  and  at  a given  signal — a pistol-shot  from 
Luukkonen — rush  to  the  attack.  But  as  it  was  of  the 
greatest  importance,  where  everything  depended  upon 
despatch,  that  they  should  take  horses  along,  and  as  it 
was  impossible  to  do  this  by  the  forest  roads,  they 
agreed  to  procure  as  many  carts  as  possible  and  send 
them,  with  Bertelskold’s  horses  attached,  along  the  great 
highway  to  the  appointed  place  of  meeting,  as  if  they 
were  an  empty  transport  retiring  from  Wiborg.  The 
command  of  this  party  was  given  to  Miltopoeus,  who 
talked  Russian  enough  to  serve  the  occasion,  and  was 
to  represent  the  commissary  or  quartermaster  who 
usually  accompanied  such  transports.  Under  some  hay 
in  the  carts  were  concealed  weapons  and  saddles  for 
four  of  the  fleetest  horses  which  were  expected  to  serve 
the  noble  prisoner  and  his  guard  for  a hasty  retreat  over 
the  Finnish  border. 

After  they,  with  some  difficulty,  had  put  life  into  the 
sleeping  Langstrom,  they  all  hastened  with  great  eager- 
ness to  put  the  plan  in  execution. 


176 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  EAGLE -HUNT. 

rp HE  following  morning  found  the  little  troop,  after 
I a most  difficult  forced  march  through  the  forests, 
not  far  from  Systerback  and  only  half  a mile  from 
Bjeloostrow.  The  early  August  sun  had  already  for 
more  than  an  hour  gilded  the  tops  of  the  birches,  when 
the  troops  took  a short  rest  in  order  to  renew  their 
strength  for  their  dangerous  undertaking.  Fortunately 
the  district  was  to  a great  extent  desolated  by  the  war, 
and  besides,  was  filled  with  bottomless  bogs,  through 
which  filtered  Ladoga’s  enormous  mass  of  water  down 
toward  the  sea  by  means  of  subterraneous  channels,  so 
that  fleeing  lynxes,  wolves  and  foxes  were  the  only  liv- 
ing beings  that  seemed  inclined  to  contest  the  entrance 
of  the  partisans  into  Ingermanland. 

“ I wish  we  had  Lofving  with  us,”  said  Luukkonen  ; 
“ a sharper  fellow  than  he  never  lay  in  wait  for  an 
enemy.  Langstrom  must  try  his  fortune  ; he  knows 
every  bush  here  ; indeed,  it  is  not  many  hours  since 
we  were  here  last.” 

Langstrom,  as  indefatigable  now  as  he  was  sleepy 
before,  took  a Kivekat  with  him  and  went  out  to  recon- 
noitre the  neighborhood.  The  forenoon  was  already 
well  advanced,  and  his  comrades  had  begun  to  suspect 
the  worst,  when  he  returned.  The  country-seat,  he 
reported,  was  filled  with  Russian  and  Finnish  colonists, 
probably  a hundred  in  number,  who  were  digging 
ditches,  arranging  gardens  and  erecting  a splendid 
stone  house.  A company  of  the  Preobraschen  guard 
was  quartered  in  the  nearest  village,  a verst  away  ; 
scarcely  thirty  soldiers  were  at  the  country-seat  itself, 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


177 


and  even  these  had  laid  aside  their  weapons  and  their 
coats  to  dig  and  lay  walls,  so  zealously  the  czar  drove 
on  the  work.  He  had,  accompanied  only  by  Menschi- 
koff  and  his  valet,  ridden  close  by  a barn  under  the 
floor  of  which  the  two  partisans  lay  concealed.  “ It 
was  hardly  fifteen  paces,”  said  Langstrom ; “ I could 
certainly  have  hit  him  with  my  horse-pistol, — a good 
mark  for  an  active  bullet  ; but  I said  to  myself : ‘ If  it 
were  Satan  himself  in  his  own  person,  he  were  too 
good  to  be  brought  down  in  a mean  way  by  an  honor- 
able soldier,  and  it  is  hardly  three  weeks  since  he  gave 
me  my  life.’  So  I let  him  ride  by,  and  I understood 
this  much  : he  told  Menschikoff  that  more  folks  ought 
to  be  brought  here  from  Finland,  because  they  knew 
better  how  to  cultivate  the  marshy  lands.  To  this 
Menschikoff  replied  that  he  might  have  twenty  or  so 
Finnish  girls  brought  here  and  marry  them  to  his 
Russian  serfs,  for  it  was  always  a benefit  to  cross  the 
races.  And  it  seemed  to  amuse  the  czar.” 

Since  they  had  satisfied  themselves  that  the  venture 
might  be  made,  the  men  were  divided  according  to 
agreement  into  small  parties,  and  set  out — not  without 
beating  hearts — on  the  way  to  the  country-seat. 

In  approaching  the  house  our  adventurers  had  to 
pass  one  of  those  low  but  fruitful  plains  which  spread 
out  over  the  greater  part  of  Ingermanland.  A few 
barley-fields,  in  cultivation  again  after  the  devastating 
incursion,  awaited  the  scythe  with  heavy  heads,  and 
gave  a part  of  the  marauders  a welcome  shelter,  even 
quite  near  to  the  house  itself.  Two  parties,  led  by 
Bertelskold  and  Langstrom,  thus  succeeded  in  reach- 
ing the  gate  quite  unobserved. 

The  other  parties,  led  by  Luukkonen,  Peldan,  and 
a Kivekat  by  the  name  of  Toivonen,  without  any  hin- 
drance approached  the  same  point  from  opposite 
directions,  after  they  had  got  rid  of  some  importunate 
questioners,  by  the  assurance  that  they  were  laborers 
from  the  vicinity,  who  by  order  of  the  czar  had  come 
M 


178 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


hither  to  assist  in  the  work.  Everything  promised  a 
fortunate  issue,  excepting  that  Miltopoeus  did  not  put 
in  an  appearance  with  the  horses. 

They  waited,  but  it  was  impossible  to  wait  long. 
The  czar  was  eating  his  dinner  within  ; they  feared 
his  eagle-eye  if  he  should  come  out  and  see  their 
disguises. 

Luukkonen  had  made  up  his  mind  to  give  the  sig- 
nal, when  a confused  alarm  was  heard  from  the  high- 
way, and  immediately  afterward  was  seen  a part  of  the 
expected  horses  attached  to  the  wagons  and  ridden  by 
several  of  our  adventurers,  but  without  saddles,  gallop- 
ing towards  the  gate.  After  them  in  hot  haste  came  a 
dozen  Cossacks.  The  occasion  of  this  was,  as  was 
afterward  learned,  that  the  Cossacks  wished  to  capture 
the  carts  ; a good  prize,  as  they  were  in  need  of  trans- 
ports. But  the  weapons  and  saddles  were  concealed 
under  the  hay.  Miltopoeus  objected  a long  time,  but 
he  made  such  a brilliant  fool  of  himself  with  his  Rus- 
sian phrases  that,  finally,  one  of  the  Cossacks  permit- 
ted him,  in  a manner  not  very  gentle,  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  his  pikestaff.  That  was  more  than 
our  gallant  student  could  digest,  and  in  a twinkling 
the  man  with  the  pike  lay  stretched  on  the  ground.  A 
tumult  could  not  be  avoided  ; the  partisans  snatched 
their  weapons  and  succeeded  in  beating  back  the 
enemy  for  an  instant,  but  only  long  enough  to  attach 
ten  horses  and  get  as  many  muskets,  whereupon  the 
whole  crowd,  friends  and  enemies,  started  precipitately 
towards  Bjeloostrow. 

Luukkonen  saw  at  once  that  there  was  no  time 
to  lose,  and  fired  one  of  the  pistols  he  had  concealed 
under  his  peasant- jacket,  at  the  guard  who  was  posted 
at  the  gate.  At  this  agreed  signal  all  the  partisans 
started  forward  with  the  thundering  field-cry  of  “ King 
Charles,”  and  crowded  into  the  court. 

Here  were  about  twenty  men  of  the  guard  care- 
lessly scattered  about  enjoying  their  midday  rest. 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


179 


They  had  stacked  their  arms  by  the  steps  of  the  little 
country-house  which  was  to  give  way  to  make  room 
for  the  stately  stone  mansion.  Before  they  could  get 
weapons  the  freebooters  were  ahead  of  them  and  suc- 
ceeded, now  well  armed,  with  several  violent  assaults 
in  driving  them  over  the  low  half-finished  walls. 

This  was  only  a prelude  to  the  real  play, — one  that 
had  a more  precious  object  in  view.  At  the  first  out- 
cry Bertelskold  started  for  the  main  entrance,  intending 
to  crowd  into  the  house  and  decide  the  destiny  of  the 
day  before  the  guards  could  come  to  their  senses.  But 
here  he  met  a gigantic  guard  who  was  posted  in  the 
vestibule  and  stopped  the  passage.  A strife  of  doubt- 
ful issue  arose  between  him  and  Bertelskold, — a strife 
between  Titans,  both  equal  in  hight  and  bodily  vigor. 
Finally,  the  count’s  more  practiced  fencing  prevailed  ; 
the  faithful  guard  fell  at  his  post  like  an  honest  soldier, 
and  Bertelskold  pressed  on. 

He  met  new  obstacles.  The  doors  were  locked  on 
the  inside,  an  evidence  that  those  within  had  presence 
of  mind  enough  to  make  use  of  the  seconds. 

“ In  through  the  windows  ! ” shouted  Luukkonen. 
They  had  no  time  to  break  in  the  doors. 

Langstrbm  was  the  first  who  jumped  in.  The  rich 
roasts  were  still  fragrant,  as  were  also  other  remains  of 
the  repast,  but  no  one  had  time  to  enjoy  them. 
Langstrom  burst  open  the  nearest  door  and  found 
himself  in  the  midst  of  a group  of  weeping  female  ser- 
vants. But  as  courtesy  to  the  fair  sex  was  no  affair  of 
the  valiant  captain’s,  he  was  less  than  ever  in  his  place 
here.  He  tried  to  push  ahead,  with  harsh  gestures  on 
every  side;  but  it  was  impossible.  The  faithfulness  of 
these  serfs  to  their  master  was  no  less  determined  than 
that  of  the  giant  in  the  vestibule.  They  clung  fast  to 
the  freebooter’s  limbs,  they  threw  themselves  at  his  feet, 
he  could  only  move  by  passing  over  them.  His  pow- 
erful sword  he  had  no  heart  to  use,  and  so  several 
minutes  were  lost. 


180 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


In  the  meantime,  and  before  the  attacking  party 
were  able  to  guard  all  sides  of  the  house,  several  per- 
sons had  jumped  out  of  the  windows  and  fled  to  the 
field.  One  among  these,  of  uncommon  strength  and 
agility,  had  made  his  way  through  Luukkonen’s  men, 
and  given  Toivonen,  his  nearest  opponent,  a mark  to 
carry  to  his  dying  day. 

Some  thought  they  recognized  the  czar,  and  were 
inclined  to  follow  him.  But  others  insisted  that  they 
had  seen  the  czar  at  the  window  of  the  innermost  room, 
and  knew  him  by  his  ornamented  hat  and  his  dark- 
green  coat  embroidered  with  gold.  The  partisans  did 
not  dare  divide  their  strength,  and  therefore  hastened 
to  force  the  door  to  the  inner  room,  which  the  prince 
used  as  a work-shop  when  he  stayed  at  the  country- 
seat. 

The  resistance  at  this  point  was  extremely  vigorous. 
The  door  was  found  to  be  barricaded  with  all  the  fur- 
niture in  the  room,  and  when  it  was  at  last  broken 
from  its  hinges,  the  invaders  were  received  with  pistol 
shots.  Two  of  them  were  wounded;  the  room  was 
filled  with  smoke.  But  through  the  smoke  they  dis- 
covered the  czar  and  one  of  his  chamberlains,  half 
shielded  by  an  upturned  writing-table,  with  swords 
drawn  ready  to  defend  themselves  to  the  uttermost. 

“ Surrender,  sire  ! ” shouted  Bertelskold  in  German; 
“ opposition  is  useless,  and  your  majesty  shall  be  treated 
with  all  respect,  as  is  becoming  to  your  royal  person.” 

The  czar  was  silent,  but  his  chamberlain  replied. 
“ On  your  knees,  slave,  when  you  address  the  emperor 
of  all  the  Russians  ! ” cried  he.  “The  great  czar  does 
not  surrender  to  robbers;  it  becomes  them  to  beg  for 
mercy.” 

“ We  are  neither  slaves  nor  robbers,”  proudly 
replied  Bertelskold,  “ but  officers  and  soldiers  in  his 
Swedish  majesty’s  service.  I pray  you,  sire,  do  not 
compel  us  to  use  force,  for  I swear  by  your  crown  that 
you  must  follow  us,  and  that  immediately  ! ” 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


181 


“ His  imperial  majesty  consents  to  listen  to  your 
terms,”  said  the  chamberlain,  after  a few  whispered 
words  with  his  master. 

“ He  wastes  time  ! ” said  Luukkonen.  “ His  men 
gather  from  all  sides.  Seize  him  ! ” 

Bertelskold  saw  too  well  that  every  second  was 
precious,  and  therefore  without  further  negotiation 
sprang  over  the  table  upon  the  czar,  while  Langstrom, 
with  a stroke  of  his  fearful  sword,  stretched  the  cham- 
berlain upon  the  floor.  The  sword  was  wrenched  from 
the  struggling  prince’s  hand,  and  Bertelskold  bore  him, 
in  spite  of  his  determined  resistance,  unhurt  to  the 
door. 

“ Death  and  hell!  ” screamed  Langstrom,  when  they 
were  out  of  the  smoke  and  the  clear  sunshine  fell  upon 
their  prisoner’s  countenance;  “ it  is  not  the  czar  !” 

“ It  is  he  ! ” shouted  the  others.  “ We  know  his  em- 
broidered coat  and  his  hat ! ” 

Luukkonen,  who  had  so  lately  had  personal  deal- 
ings with  the  formidable  ruler,  pressed  forward  and 
stroked  aside  the  hair  from  the  prisoner’s  brow.  “No,” 
said  he,  in  an  angry  tone  of  disappointed  expectation, 
“ it  is  not  the  czar ! God  help  us,  the  czar  has 
escaped  ! ” 

“ I told  you  so!”  cried  a Kivekat!  “ It  was  the  czar 
that  leaped  through  the  window  and  cleft  poor  Toivo- 
nen’s  forehead.” 

And  so  it  was,  in  fact.  The  prisoner  had  only  put 
on  the  czar’s  well-known  hat  and  cloak  and  stationed 
himself  at  the  window,  in  order  to  mislead  the  assail- 
ants and  detain  them  as  long  as  possible  while  his  mas- 
ter gained  time  to  reach  a place  of  safety.  Menschikoff 
also  had  escaped.  The  bold  experiment  had  totally 
failed. 

“ You  shall  pay  for  this,  you  crafty  dog  ! ” said 
Langstrom,  in  a rage,  and  lifted  his  deadly  weapon 
over  the  prisoner’s  head. 

“ Strike,  if  it  please  you,”  said  the  Russian  defi- 


182 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


antly.  “ I am  only  my  master’s  and  sovereign’s  most 
insignificant  slave,  but  I know  how  to  die  for  him  if  it 
be  the  will  of  the  saints,  and  he  will  take  care  of  my 
wife  and  children.  Why  do  you  delay,  man  of  the 
bloody  hand  ? Do  you  not  see  that  the  czar  has 
escaped  your  ambush  and  will  return  to  avenge  me  ? 
Therefore  strike  ! ” 

Langstrom  did  not  strike.  “ No,”  said  Bertelskold, 
“this  man  has  only  done  his  duty  and  acted  by  his  mas- 
ter as  every  one  of  us  would  have  done  by  ours.  Let 
him  go.” 

The  prisoner  was  set  at  liberty.  These  rude  parti- 
sans, who,  faithful  to  the  death,  strove  for  their  king, 
even  during  the  first  vexation  occasioned  by  the  failure 
of  their  undertaking,  knew  how  to  respect  the  fidelity 
with  which  the  Russians  at  all  times  gave  their  blood 
for  their  ruler.  It  is  true  that  these  people  acted  under 
the  influence  of  an  unreasoning  emotion,  while  the  free 
men  of  the  west  acted  from  conviction;  but  the  sacri- 
fices of  both,  their  devotion,  and  their  mode  of  action, 
were  at  the  last  the  same. 

“ To  horse,  comrades  ! To  horse  ! ” sounded 
Luukkonen’s  voice.  And  it  was  in  truth  high  time. 
The  scattered  guards  had  united  with  the  advancing 
Cossacks  and  threatened  to  cut  off  retreat.  The  labor- 
ers, armed  with  axes  and  iron  bars,  surrounded  the 
yard.  From  all  sides  men  were  seen  hastening  to  the 
place,  and  in  the  distance  a moving  cloud  of  dust,  raised 
by  the  Preobraschian  guard,  probably  led  by  the  czar 
himself,  showed  that  they  were  marching  up  to  scourge 
the  bold  assailants. 

The  contest  had  lasted  hardly  twenty  minutes,  but 
with  every  minute  the  danger  was  doubled.  The  little 
Finnish  troop  had  one  dead  and  two  wounded.  For- 
tunately, ten  men  had  been  left  behind  to  watch  the 
horses.  These,  too,  were  only  ten  in  number  and  with- 
out saddles,  and  about  forty  were  needed.  Even  with 
two  upon  each  horse,  half  their  force  would  have  been 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


183 


lost  if  the  Cossacks  had  not  brought  with  them  the 
horses  and  carts  they  had  just  taken  from  Miltopceus. 
Luukkonen  saw  them,  and  sent  his  ten  mounted  men, 
under  Bertelskold  and  Langstrom,  to  attack  the  Cos- 
sacks, while  the  rest  on  foot  pushed  headlong  upon  the 
conspiring  laborers,  scattered  them  without  much  diffi- 
culty, and  took  the  horses  and  carts,  with  which  they 
soon  reached  the  highway,  and  afterwards,  by  hard 
driving,  the  border  and  the  Finnish  woods. 

Bertelskold  and  Langstrom,  with  eight  comrades 
mounted  on  unsaddled  horses,  had,  with  no  hope  of 
assistance,  to  cut  their  way  through  more  than  a hun- 
dred soldiers  and  farmers  on  foot,  and  from  thirty  to 
forty  Cossacks,  while  the  guard  at  double-quick  ap- 
proached the  place.  Their  destruction  seemed  cer- 
tain; but  these  brave  partisans,  experienced  in  all  kinds 
of  danger,  did  not  despair.  Instead  of  awaiting 
attack  they  resolutely  took  the  offensive,  and  made  for 
the  Cossacks,  their  most  dangerous  enemies. 

But  the  Cossacks,  equally  courageous  and  equally 
desirous  of  strife,  took  advantage  of  their  long  pikes 
and  their  excellent  horses,  and  wheeled  aside  to  attack 
their  adversaries  in  the  flank  and  rear.  The  conflict 
became  unfavorable  to  the  partisans.  Two  of  them 
fell  before  the  pikes,  and  a third,  Miltopoeus,  thrown 
from  his  horse,  was,  amid  tumultuous  shouts,  taken 
prisoner  by  those  on  foot. 

Bertelskold  was  almost  frantic  at  this  misfortune. 
He  was,  as  will  be  remembered,  a man  of  giant  strength, 
and,  besides,  one  of  the  boldest  horsemen  of  his  time, 
from  childhood,  as  it  were,  fast-grown  to  a horse’s  back. 
He  had  noticed  that  the  leader  of  the  Cossacks  rode  a 
most  excellent  horse,  far  better  than  any  of  the  others, 
but  dangerous  to  the  partisans  because  he  would  sud- 
denly wheel  and  take  them  in  the  rear.  Bertelskold 
rode  towards  him,  and  at  the  same  time,  making  it  ap- 
pear to  be  accidental,  he  slipped  to  his  horse’s  side,  so 
that  he  hung  there  holding  fast  by  the  mane.  The  Cos- 


184 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


sack  was  at  once  beside  him,  and  raised  his  long  pike 
over  him,  but  at  that  very  moment  Bertelskold  was  again 
on  his  horse,  grasped  the  Cossack  in  front  with  his  right 
hand- and  lifted  him  out  of  the  saddle,  while  with  his  left 
hand  he  seized  the  loosened  horse  by  the  bridle  and 
drew  him  away.  In  this  strange  position,  with  his 
floundering  antagonist  lifted  at  arm’s  length  before  him 
and  followed  by  his  captured  horse,  the  powerful  Caro- 
lin  rode  in  among  the  people  who  were  on  foot,  without 
heeding  their  bullets  or  their  sabers,  and  cast  his  prison- 
er loose  into  the  thickest  crowd.  The  terrified  group 
scattered  in  all  directions,  believing  nothing  else  than 
that  the  devil  himself  rode  in  among  them  ; and  not 
the  least  astonished  was  Miltopceus,  whom  they  were 
just  about  to  bind  with  his  hands  behind  his  back. 
Bertelskold  gave  him  his  own  horse  and  took  the  Cos- 
sack’s himself,  and  they  both  hastened  to  the  assistance 
of  Langstrom,  who,  about  to  be  overpowered,  hewed 
about  him  like  a madman  with  his  well-known  and  dan- 
gerous broad-sword. 

Once  again  in  the  saddle,  and  with  an  impassioned 
horseman’s  perfect  fascination  at  having  under  him  a 
charger  breathing  like  a flaming  fire  and  strong  as  a 
tempest,  Bertelskold  seemed  quite  another  man,  and  his 
opponents  soon  found  it  out.  Now  it  was  he  that  with 
the  lightning’s  speed  was  on  every  side  of  them,  always 
attacking  them  at  exposed  points  ; and  rider  after  rider 
fell  heels  over  head  to  the  earth  before  his  destroying 
steel.  Like  the  champions  of  old,  he  seemed  to  wear 
a charmed  corselet  ; pikes  and  swords  appeared  to  re- 
bound from  this  raging  Hercules,  who  overthrew  all 
who  came  in  his  way,  and  victory  soon  turned  on  the 
side  of  the  partisans.  Every  man  took  new  courage 
and  fought  like  four.  “ King  Charles  ! King  Charles!” 
their  war-cry  sounded,  and  the  enemy,  uncertain 
whether  they  had  not  the  fearful  Finnish  sorcery  to  deal 
with,  scattered  in  wild  flight  just  as  the  guards  came 
almost  within  musket-shot  of  the  grounds. 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


185 


Bertelskold  and  his  men  did  not  think  it  best  to 
await  their  coming.  Two  men  less  in  number,  and  with 
several  wounded,  they  galloped  away  towards  their  own 
inaccessible  forests,  leaving  on  the  field,  besides 
Toivonen  and  the  two  horsemen,  a larger  number  of 
fallen  and  wounded  foes  than  one  now-a-days  hears  of 
in  a modern  war-bulletin.  They  were  also  compelled 
to  leave  their  hope  of  that  precious  booty  which  would 
have  had  such  an  immeasurable  influence  upon  the 
whole  war  ; but  they  took  with  them  the  proud  recol- 
lection that  they  had  once  more  come  forth  from  an 
unequal  fight  as  conquerors,  and  that,  few  as  they  were, 
they  had  at  least  undertaken  an  achievement  upon 
which  whole  armies  had  turned  their  backs. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


MAJNIEMI  CASTLE. 


TTTHAT  could  easily  be  foreseen,  had  happened. 

W Lybecker’s  retreat  to  Pelkane  left  the  coast 
and  all  the  southern  portion  of  the  country  open  to  the 
enemy,  who  did  not  delay  to  take  possession  of  it.  As 
soon  as  he  had  secured  Helsingfors,  he  advanced  with- 
out delay  on  Abo,  attacked  Colonel  Stjernschantz,  who 
with  eight  hundred  men  sought  to  stop  him  at  Kare’s 
bridge,  and  marched  into  the  city  on  the  28th  day  of 
August,  the  last  thanksgiving  day  of  the  year.  All  the 
civil  officers,  together  with  the  members  of  the  univer- 
sity and  the  greater  number  of  the  inhabitants,  had  fled 
before  the  dreaded  enemy,  who  found  the  town  aban- 
doned and  half  in  ashes.  For  Abo  had  in  17 11  been 
visited  by  a great  conflagration — the  first  fulfillment  of 
the  witch  Inkeri’s  prophecies  of  disaster.  The  Russian 
8* 


186 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


troops  therefore  encamped  in  the  castle  grounds.  The 
czar  arrived  soon  after,  and  took  up  his  abode  in  Witt- 
footh’s  house,  near  the  bridge.  In  commemoration  of 
his  entrance  into  Abo,  he  had  a medal  struck,  the  face 
of  which  bore  his  bust,  and  the  reverse,  Hercules  with 
his  club  driving  Neptune  from  his  chariot  out  into  the 
sea.  Under  this  was  inscribed  : Abo,  Sept.  8th,  1713. 

And  now  we  are  carried  back  to  one  of  those 
minor  battles  which  blazed  up  in  every  Finnish  neigh- 
borhood, while  the  enemy  was  advancing  and  the  regu- 
lar army  of  the  country  was  falling  back,  and  to  Maj- 
niemi  castle,  concerning  which  our  story  has  been  silent 
ever  since  the  spring  of  1697,  when  the  castle  was  con- 
fiscated on  account  of  the  Reduction.  The  propo- 
sition to  appropriate  this  great  estate,  with  its  sightly 
buildings,  to  the  use  of  the  Abo  regiment,  for  the  colo- 
nel’s residence,  seems  not  to  have  been  acted  on,  for  we 
find  that  Kunsto  manor,  thereafter,  as  well  as  before, 
served  this  end.  Instead  of  this,  the  extreme  pe- 
cuniary embarrassment  experienced  by  the  crown  as 
the  result  of  the  long  continued  war  had  compelled  the 
government  to  offer  for  sale,  together  with  many  other 
estates,  the  reduced  Majniemi.  But  the  Finnish  nobility 
were  also  so  impoverished  by  the  Reduction  and  the 
war,  that  none  of  them  in  those  uncertain  times  had  a 
mind  to  appear  as  buyers,  and  so  the  property  was 
managed  for  the  use  of  the  crown  by  a man  whom  the 
reader  will  remember  from  the  foregoing  story,  namely, 
the  honest  and  gentle  Master  Pehr,  whom  Count  Bern- 
hard  Bertelskold  selected  as  manager  and  steward  of 
his  father’s  estate — the  same  Pehr  who  in  his  childhood 
received  a present  of  an  Oland  pony  from  Charles  XI 
at  the  famous  hunt  in  the  vicinity  of  the  priest’s  resi- 
dence at  Saltvik. 

This  Pehr,  a man  of  honor,  who  now  at  forty-six 
years  of  age  had  many  cares  upon  him  during  these 
times  of  distress,  sat  one  evening  in  his  simple  dwell- 
ing by  the  side  of  the  castle,  engrossed  with  his  ac- 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


187 


counts,  while  his  wife  and  children  about  him  were 
shelling  beans  lately  gathered  from  the  great  garden 
now  half  overgrown,  when  a knocking  was  heard  at  the 
closed  door.  The  whole  family  started  up  and  turned 
pale  at  the  sound,  for  they  every  day  expected  the 
enemy  that  had  already  marched  by  to  Abo,  only  twen- 
ty-five or  thirty  miles  away  ; but  as  Majniemi  lay  on  one 
side,  it  had  hitherto  been  saved  from  the  dreaded 
visit. 

Master  Pehr  went  with  beating  heart  to  ascertain  if 
their  apprehensions  were  well  grounded,  and  saw  from 
the  gate-keeper’s  window  some  twenty  horsemen  halted 
outside  the  gate.  It  was  already  rather  dark,  but  he 
thought  he  could  see  that  the  men  did  not  have  long 
pikes  nor  tall  hats  as  he  apprehended,  but  looked  more 
like  hunters  in  civil  attire  and  his  own  countrymen. 
With  a somewhat  quieted  mind,  therefore,  he  determined 
to  open  the  window  and  enquire  who  they  were,  that  so 
late  in  the  evening  came  to  ask  the  hospitality  of  the 
castle,  at  the  present  time  so  scantily  supplied. 

“ Good  friends  ! ” was  the  answer  from  without. 
“ Present  our  compliments  to  Master  Pehr,  and  tell  him 
that  Gosta  Bertelskold,  who  was  formerly  called  Count 
of  Majniemi,  is  here  with  some  of  his  friends  to  ask 
shelter.” 

Pehr  did  not  give  himself  time  to  answer,  but  went 
with  huge  strides  to  the  gate.  “ God  forbid  ! ” said 
he,  with  tears  in  his  honest  grey  eyes,  “ God  forbid 
that  Majniemi’s  gate  should  ever  be  closed  to  my 
beloved  master’s  son,  or  to  any  that  he  calls  his 
friends.” 

“ Yes,  make  haste,  my  good  Pehr,”  said  the  count. 
“ Make  haste  to  get  us  a good  fire  and  a little  fodder 
for  our  horses.  We  have  ridden  more  than  forty  miles 
over  infamous  forest  roads  and  with  the  Russians  at 
our  heels.  We  intended  to  help  Stjernschantz  defend 
Abo,  but  I hear  we  have  come  too  late.  Well,  now,  you 
and  yours  are  well  ? ” 


188 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“ As  well  as  can  be  in  these  deplorable  times,”  an- 
swered the  steward,  as  he  showed  the  company  the  way. 
“ My  old  mother  desired  me  to  greet  your  grace.  She 
fell  asleep  last  spring.  She  left  this  evil  world  in  good 
time,  at  seventy-four  years  of  age,  pious  and  accepted 
of  God,  as  she  had  lived.” 

“ So  good  old  mother  Greta  has  left  this  world!” 
said  Bertelskold,  greatly  moved.  “ She  was  my  sainted 
father’s  childhood  friend,  and  a ray  of  light  in  this 
world’s  darkness.  But  let  us  not  disturb  you  in  your 
home,  my  good  man.  Can  you  not  quarter  us  in  some 
wing  of  the  castle  ?” 

“ Your  grace  must  make  the  best  of  it  here  with  me,” 
said  the  steward;  “ it  is  warmer.  As  to  your  friends,  I 
can  fit  up  for  them  the  big  hall  in  the  first  story.  I 
think  a fire  can  still  be  made  in  the  chimney.  Alas, 
your  grace,  the  castle  looks  quite  different  now  from 
what  it  did  when  you  left  it  eighteen  years  ago  ! ” 

With  these  words  the  steward  hastened  to  make  the 
necessary  preparations  for  the  reception  of  the  guests, 
and  Bertelskold,  thoughtful,  remained  in  the  great  dark 
castle  yard.  The  moon,  which  just  then  broke  through 
the  autumnal  clouds  shone  with  a melancholy  light 
upon  the  high  facade  of  his  ancestral  castle,  which  he 
had  not  seen  since  the  days  of  its  prosperity.  Storms 
had  torn  loose  a part  of  its  roof  plates,  broken  in  pieces 
the  panes  of  its  high  windows,  and  sadly  disfigured  the 
great  statues  of  the  champions  in  basso-relievo  that  were 
placed  upon  the  walls.  The  castle  had  been  built  with 
the  forced  tributes  of  the  Thirty-years’  war.  The  heir 
of  the  iron  warrior  who  perhaps  had  stained  these  trib- 
utes with  much  blood  and  many  curses,  now  stood  with 
gloomy  sensations  before  these  ruined  walls,  within 
which  he  trod  as  a stranger  this  dark  evening.  His  own 
adventurous  life  had  taught  him  how  men  enrich  them- 
selves in  war,  and  involuntarily  he  recalled  the  old 
proverb:  “ Ill-gotten,  ill-spent.” 

Bertelskold  delayed  so  long,  absorbed  in  these  sor- 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


189 


rowful  reflections,  that  the  steward  was  finally  obliged 
to  remind  him  that  the  fire  and  a hastily  prepared  meal 
awaited  him  within.  “You  must  see  my  good  wife,” 
said  he.  “ An  excellent  woman,  though  now  a little 
way  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  flower  months  ! She  is  a 
Larsson;  her  father  is  a merchant  in  Wasa;  and  we 
became  acquainted  sixteen  years  ago,  when  I went  there 
with  the  lamented  count,  your  father,  to  buy  grain  in 
the  great  famine  year.” 

They  went  into  the  simple  but  thrifty  dwelling, 
where  Bertelskold  was  received  with  a respect  and 
cordiality  that  went  to  his  heart.  It  was  a long  time 
since  the  valiant  Carolin — he  who  had  no  home  in  the 
wide  world — had  seen  himself  surrounded  by  the  quiet 
happiness  of  home.  His  exiled  spirit  had  so  long  been 
driven  about  on  life’s  stormy  wave  that  he  had  nearly 
forgotten  what  peace  and  contentment,  what  the  smile 
of  affection  and  the  light  of  one’s  own  fireside,  signify 
to  the  human  heart.  A feeling  of  being  once  more  at 
home  took  possession  of  him,  and  he  listened  with 
friendly  sympathy  to  the  good  steward’s  stories  of  all 
that  had  befallen  Majniemi  during  these  sixteen  years 
since  it  passed  out  of  the  possession  of  its  former 
owner  ; how  the  crown  had  appropriated  nothing  to 
keep  up  the  castle  and  the  grounds,  leaving  them  to  go 
to  ruin  ; how  the  extensive  acreage  had  been  mostly 
brought  under  cultivation  ; how  the  condition  of  the 
people  had  been  improved  by  means  of  the  blessed 
count’s  village  school  and  other  wise  institutions,  until 
the  war  and  the  plague  had  taken  more  than  half  the 
hands  from  the  plow  ; and  ht>w  the  people  still  blessed 
the  memory  of  the  sainted  count  for  the  help  with 
which  he  saved  them  from  death  by  starvation  in 
the  dreadful  famine. 

The  narration  of  these  incidents  was  broken  off  by 
a new  knocking  at  the  door,  and  Master  Pehr,  feeling 
secure  in  the  thought  that  he  now  had  brave  defend- 
ers, went  to  open  it.  He  soon  returned,  conducting  a 


190 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


young  man  in  peasant’s  dress,  whose  sinewy  frame 
betokened  strength  as  much  as  his  twinkling  eyes  in- 
dicated shrewdness  and  judgment. 

“Lofving!”  cried  Bertelskold  in  glad  surprise. 
“You  here,  my  brisk  boy?  And  we  believed  that 
long  before  this  you  were  dangling  at  the  end  of  a 
Russian  rope.” 

“ Not  yet ! ” cheerfully  replied  the  renowned  parti- 
san and  spy,  Stephen  Lofving,  for  it  was  indeed  he.  “ I 
came  from  Abo,  where  I was  in  the  czar’s  own  kitchen 
and  sold  fourscore  eggs.  From  the  cook  and  the 
kitchen  boys  I found  out  something  about  the  condition 
of  affairs  in  the  city,  where  we  for  the  present  cannot 
accomplish  anything  ; but  I sent  word  to  Taube  at 
Oland  that  he  could  pay  his  respects  with  his  galleys, 
for  I had  spread  the  rumor  that  I had  seen  the  whole 
Swedish  fleet  on  the  reefs.  And  as  I thought  one 
might  earn  a little  on  his  own  account,  I played  the 
role  of  simplicity,  and  dropped  a word  or  two  about  the 
fat  calves  which  the  peasants  were  taking  away  to  an 
island  in  Pargas.  They  at  once  began  to  press  me  to 
show  them  the  way  thither,  which  I did  with  many 
objections,  and  they  sent  the  under-cook  and  two  men 
with  me  to  seize  the  roasts.  Whereupon  I led  them  to 
an  out-of-the  way  cliff  and  drew  my  pistols  from  under 
my  jacket,  saying  to  them  : “ Here  with  the  dengi!  ” 

This  they  understood  at  once,  and  fell  to  their  prayer- 
books.  Thus  I captured  two  guns  and  two  sabers, 
which,  as  they  were  of  no  particular  use  to  me,  I sold 
to  the  peasants  for  eight  dollars,  and  I captured 
besides  a neat  purse  of  rubles.  But  the  prisoners  I 
left  on  the  cliff  to  find  out  about  the  calves.  Thanks 
for  the  pleasure  of  our  last  meeting,  Master  Pehr. 
Here  are  the  ten  dollars  I owe  you  for  keeping  me 
away  from  the  Cossack’s  pikes  in  a load  of  straw.  I 
have  something  to  tell  you,  but  it  will  do  no  harm  to* 
let  the  major  hear  it.  We  have  the  enemy  three 
hundred  paces  from  here.” 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


191 


“ The  enemy  ! ” cried  Master  Pehr.  This  single 
word  had  frightened  the  color  from  the  cheek  of  every 
one  in  this  thrifty  family,  and,  like  a hurricane,  had 
blown  away  the  mirage  of  quiet  happiness  which  had  so 
lately  fascinated  Bertelskold. 

“I  tell  you,”  resumed  Lofving,  “that  when  I was 
going  along  a by-path  not  far  from  the  great  lane,  I 
saw  by  the  road  a Cossack  on  watch.  There  were 
certainly  more  of  them  in  the  village.” 

“ You  are  right,”  said  Bertelskold.  “ I ought  to 
have  expected  it.  We  noticed  a wandering  party  at 
our  heels  this  afternoon ; but  as  we  wanted  to  reach 
the  castle  before  night,  we  did  not  stop  to  chastise 
them.  If  I know  you  aright,  you  let  the  Cossack  follow 
your  lead  ? ” 

“ I sprang  for  his  waist,  so  that  he  could  not  use  his 
long  pike,  and  tried  to  snatch  him  off  his  horse,  but  as 
he  would  not  surrender  I was  obliged  to  cleave  his 
head.  Well,  he  did  not  say  any  more  then.  It  is  too 
bad  that  his  horse  got  away;  he  might  tell  tales  out  of 
school.” 

“We  must  not  lose  a moment  in  putting  ourselves 
in  a condition  for  defense  ! ” exclaimed  Bertelskold,  an- 
imated by  the  danger.  “ All  the  powder  and  all  the 
weapons  you  can  procure,  my  good  Pehr,  take  to  the 
great  hall.  Let  the  servants  sleep  in  their  clothes  to- 
night. Be  of  good  cheer;  the  women  and  children 
may  sleep  in  quiet.  Lofving,  take  two  men  with  you 
and  go  out  and  reconnoitre,  while  I post  guards  about 
the  castle.” 

His  commands  were  executed.  There  was  soon  a 
lively  stir  everywhere  at  Majniemi.  Lanterns  flew 
across  the  yard  and  lights  shone  in  deserted  windows. 
When  Bertelskold  entered  the  great  hall  he  found  his 
faithful  comrades  enjoying  the  meal  which  Pehr  had 
hastily  prepared.  Once  more  the  beaker  passed  around 
the  company  at  Majniemi  castle.  It  was  the  last 
remains  of  the  cellar’s  olden  stock;  the  honest  steward 


192 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


had  never  before  wished  to  touch  it.  “ I found,”  said  he, 
“ this  half  anker  of  rich  Hungarian  wine  under  the  rub- 
bish, and  determined  that  it  should  only  be  drank  to 
the  success  of  my  late  beloved  master’s  son.  May 
God  keep  your  grace  in  all  dangers,  and  permit  you  yet 
in  better  times  to  resume  your  place  as  master  at  your 
father’s  table  ! ” 

Hardly  were  these  words  uttered  when  a great  crash 
was  heard,  and  immediately  afterward  a cloud  of  dust 
arose  near  the  wall.  The  portrait  of  the  founder  of 
the  family,  General  Bertelskold,  with  its  heavy  frame, 
had  started  from  its  place,  and  in  its  fall  drawn  with  it 
stones  and  mortar. 

Bertelskold  smiled  sadly.  “ My  grandfather,”  said 
he,  “ answers  your  toast  in  his  way  with  ‘amen.’  It  is 
probably  the  last  time  that  honest  champions  will  ever 
empty  a beaker  within  these  walls.” 

“ Do  not  say  so  ! We  shall  protect  them  to  the  last 
drop  of  our  blood  ! ” said  the  men. 

“ May  these  walls  fall  if  our  land  but  stands,” 
rejoined  Bertelskold.  “ I would  not  sacrifice  a single 
one  of  you  for  Majniemi,  if  our  country  could  gain 
nothing  by  it.” 

“ No,”  replied  several  voices,  “but  we  are  here  by 
the  side  of  the  highway  to  Abo,  and  could  do  much 
injury  to  the  enemy.” 

“Well ! In  God’s  name,  then  ! ” added  the  chief. 
“But  let  us  now  take  some  rest;  we  may  need  all  our 
powers  to-morrow.” 

The  steward  had  the  floor  covered  with  straw,  and 
the  wearied  champions  gladly  stretched  out  their  stiff- 
ened limbs.  But  it  was  written  in  the  book  of  fate 
that  they,  like  Mohammed’s  warriors,  should  say  of 
themselves:  “ In  Paradise  we  shall  rest.” 

Lofving  returned.  He  had  been,  in  his  peasant’s 
dress,  right  among  the  enemy,  who,  a hundred  horses 
strong,  had  taken  quarters  in  the  village  of  Arvio.  He 
had  sat  by  their  log-fire,  drank  with  them,  filled  them 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


193 


with  lies,  and  stolen  one  of  their  horses.  Bertelskold 
ought,  in  his  opinion,  to  surprise  them  that  night,  for 
they  expected  early  in  the  morning  a reinforcement  of 
a considerable  body  of  infantry,  and  would  without 
doubt  attack  the  castle. 

The  partisans  were  ready  at  once.  Just  as  the 
agreeable  numbness  of  the  first  sleep  was  upon  them, 
they  arose  again  to  saddle  their  horses  and  ride  out 
into  the  darkness  of  the  night.  Such  was  their  life. 

In  the  meantime  Pehr  took  the  precaution  during 
the  night  to  send  two  faithful  servants,  with  all  the  wo- 
men and  children  on  the  place,  to  one  of  the  remote 
and  concealed  islands  in  the  group,  whither  he  had 
previously  sent  his  most  valuable  possessions.  With 
many  sorrowful  tears  these  good  people  fled,  as  at  that 
time  many  others  in  Finland  fled,  from  the  dear  home 
which  they  might  never  see  again.  Neither  were  Mas- 
ter Pehr’s  emotions  of  the  most  joyous  character,  when 
he  accompanied  his  friends  a little  way  and  then 
returned  alone  to  the  deserted  court  of  the  castle.  But 
he  was  not  a man  to  flee  from  his  post;  he  would 
watch  the  property  of  the  crown  to  the  last,  and  serve 
his  dear  old  master’s  son  in  the  dangers  which  were 
imminent. 

With  his  return,  the  first  streaks  of  dawn  began  to 
gild  the  creaking  vanes  on  the  castle  peaks,  and  the 
clatter  of  horses’  hoofs  was  heard  on  the  road.  Master 
Pehr  listened  with  beating  heart;  the  noise  came  nearer, 
and  soon  one,  then  another,  then  a larger  troop  of 
the  partisans,  and  finally  Bertelskold  himself,  came  gal- 
loping into  the  court.  They  could  hardly  be  recog- 
nized for  blood  and  dust.  They  had  had  a hard  bit  of 
work  in  the  village,  for  the  enemy  had  been  awakened 
by  the  neighing  of  the  horses  and  had  defended  them- 
selves manfully.  As  good  luck  would  have  it,  the  en- 
emy’s horsemen  were  scattered  about  in  the  village,  and 
on  account  of  the  darkness  did  not  discover  the  slight 
strength  of  their  assailants.  Forty  men  had  been  cut 
N 9 


194 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


down;  thirty  prisoners  and  more  than  sixty  horses  were 
brought  in  as  booty.  Of  Bertelskold’s  men  two  had 
fallen  and  six  been  wounded  in  this  night’s  con- 
flict. 

After  the  prisoners  had  been  locked  in  the  cellar 
of  the  castle,  and  the  horses  put  in  the  roomy  stables, 
the  champions,  faint  from  weariness,  threw  themselves 
on  the  sheaves  of  straw,  and  in  a few  minutes  slept  as 
calmly  as  the  reaper  at  evening  when  he  has  housed  his 
crops  from  the  night’s  frost.  But  the  chief,  and  as 
many  men  as  were  needed  to  watch  the  castle  and  care 
for  the  wounded,  were  not  permitted  to  sleep.  Lofving 
also,  who  had  performed  his  lion’s  part  in  the  night’s 
adventure,  was  already,  early  in  the  morning,  mounted 
to  reconnoitre  the  neighborhood. 

About  ten  o’clock  in  the  forenoon  he  returned  with 
information  that  the  expected  hostile  infantry,  four  hun- 
dred men  with  three  field-pieces,  were  marching  against 
the  castle.  The  fugitives  from  Arvio  had  probably  has- 
tened their  march  and  stimulated  their  revengefulness 
by  the  story  of  Arvio’s  destruction.  The  defenders 
had  therefore  to  choose  between  a hasty  flight  in  the 
opposite  direction,  and  a strife  for  life  and  death  with 
an  excited  and  greatly  superior  foe. 

After  a short  consultation  the  partisans  chose  the 
latter.  They  mustered  their  forces,  which,  deducting 
the  wounded,  amounted  to  three  and  twenty  men;  but 
this  little  band  was  increased  by  Master  Pehr  with  his 
remaining  servants,  and  a group  of  fugitives  from  the 
nearest  villages,  so  that  Bertelskold’s  little  army  was 
made  up  of  about  fifty  men,  all  well  provided  with  arms 
which  had  just  before  been  taken  from  the  enemy.  Be- 
sides, Master  Pehr  had  concealed  in  the  lowest  cellar 
of  the  castle  a considerable  lot  of  powder  belonging  to 
the  crown,  and  which  was  not  carried  away  at  the  en- 
emy’s first  approach.  It  was  found,  too,  that  even  the 
six  old  swivels,  which  in  happier  times  had  been  used 
to  fire  salutes  from  the  castle,  could  be  used,  although 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


195 


for  want  of  balls  they  must  be  loaded  with  small 
stones. 

The  necessary  arrangements  were  scarcely  com- 
pleted before  the  enemy  began  to  show  himself  at  mid- 
day on  the  road  from  Abo.  At  first  he  advanced  cau- 
tiously in  small  divisions,  fearing  an  attack  in  the  rear; 
but  he  soon  became  bolder,  and  sent  out  a line  of 
skirmishers  to  force  their  way  into  the  park  between 
the  castle  and  the  lake.  This  had  to  be  prevented  at 
whatever  cost,  for  the  knolls  in  the  park  commanded 
the  castle,  and  the  enemy  would  find  shelter  there  be- 
hind the  old  lindens.  Bertelskold  had  also  placed  his 
best  marksmen  there,  and  the  skirmishers  were  re- 
pulsed. 

This  was  only  the  prelude.  The  enemy  had  ex- 
perienced the  danger  of  passing  a night  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  these  desperate  adventurers,  and  hoped 
before  evening  to  be  master  of  this  unfortified  country- 
seat,  protected  only  by  a handful  of  peasants  and 
wood-rovers.  He  therefore,  without  delay,  had  his 
field-guns  placed  beyond  musket-range  from  the  low 
brick  wall  which  surrounded  the  yard  in  front  of  the 
castle.  By  two  o’clock  the  balls  clattered  against  the 
garden  wall  and  the  walls  of  the  castle,  accomplishing 
nothing  more  than  to  knock  down  some  plaster  and 
mar  the  window  posts.  No  shot,  no  sound  from  the 
castle  answered  this  impotent  assault.  There  was  no 
reply  but  that  of  the  old  blue  and  yellow  flags — the 
same  that  swayed  before  the  gayer  winds  at  the  festivi- 
ties attending  the  entrance  of  the  Countess  Bertelskold 
— which  still  fluttered  spitefully  and  defiantly  from  the 
five  small  towers  arising  from  the  wings  and  the  center 
of  this  aristocratic  building. 

The  enemy  began  to  lose  patience.  In  order  to  de- 
cide the  affair  at  once,  he  sent  three  companies  to  take 
the  park,  while  his  other  forces  annoyed  the  castle  from 
the  farther  side  and  from  the  east. 

Bertelskold  had  foreseen  this.  While  half  of  his 


196 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


men  made  the  enemy  fight  for  every  inch  of  the  way 
into  the  park,  he  and  twenty  of  his  most  active  men 
threw  themselves  into  the  saddle,  rode  out  through  the 
back  gate,  took  a circuit  and  hewed  in  upon  the 
enemy’s  flank  near  the  west  part  of  the  park  wall.  If 
a thunderbolt  had  struck  among  the  assailants,  they 
could  not  have  been  more  astonished  than  they  were  at 
this  sudden,  unexpected,  and  dangerous  onset.  They 
scattered  like  lambs,  they  fell  like  ripe  grain  before  the 
reaper;  and  as  nearly  all  their  cavalry  had  been  de- 
stroyed the  night  before,  there  was  no  other  escape  for 
them  but  to  clamber  over  the  wall  into  the  park,  where 
about  half  their  number  were  exchanging  lively  shots 
with  the  defenders  of  the  castle.  Baggage,  arms,  am- 
munition and  cannons,  in  short,  all  of  the  enemy’s  war 
material,  fell  into  Bertelskold’s  hands,  and  he  was  often 
afterwards  heard  to  say  that  if  he  had  only  had  twenty 
more  men  outside  the  castle  and  twenty  more  in  the 
park,  the  enemy  in  spite  of  his  vastly  superior  numbers 
would  have  been  captured  or  annihilated  to  the  last  man. 

The  little  troop  of  horse  had  accomplished  no  more 
than  to  nicely  spike  the  three  cannons,  when  the  ap- 
pointed signal,  a red  flag  on  the  middle  tower,  told 
Bertelskold  that  distress  and  danger  prevailed  within 
the  castle.  He  was  obliged  therefore  to  wheel  about 
immediately  and  hasten  with  all  speed  back  to  the  gate. 
Here  he  met  Master  Pehr,  wounded  in  the  arm,  and 
crying  out  : 

“ For  God’s  sake,  your  grace,  hurry  to  the  park  ! 
They  have  taken  Flora’s  palace  and  are  shooting  balls 
of  fire  upon  the  castle  ! ” 

“ Flora’s  palace  ! ” repeated  Bertelskold,  struck  with 
memories  of  childhood  which  this  long  forgotten  name 
awakened  in  his  soul.  “ Was  it  not  there  that  Prince 
Wintersnow  and  Prince  Autumnnight  once  strove  in 
sport  for  victory  ? * Ah,  Pehr,  now  we  will  play  the 
same  game,  but  in  earnest ! ” 

* The  Surgeon’s  Stories,  second  cycle,  page  262. 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


197 


Before  Pehr  had  time  to  reply,  Bertelskold  and  his 
men  had  dismounted  and  were  running  at  full  speed  to 
the  park.  The  scene  which  presented  itself  there  was 
not  encouraging.  The  twenty  marksmen  that  had  been 
stationed  there  were  as  good  as  lost  in  the  extensive 
park,  and  could  only  here  and  there,  posted  behind 
trees,  fell  their  man;  they  could  not  prevent  the  enemy 
from  crowding  from  all  sides  into  the  close  avenues  and 
the  old — now  fallen — hot-houses,  even  to  the  highest 
and  central  knoll,  which,  on  account  of  the  magnificent 
pavilion  which  formerly  adorned  it,  had  received  the 
name  of  Flora’s  palace.  Utterly  enraged  at  his  over- 
throw, the  enemy  began  to  shoot  from  here  in  through 
the  castle  windows,  and  to  throw  fire-balls  upon  the 
roof  of  the  old  wooden  structure  beside  it,  in  which 
Master  Pehr  and  his  people  had  their  residence.  From 
the  castle  windows  the  men  let  the  swivels  answer  as 
well  as  they  could  with  their  stone  balls,  and  for 
every  shot  was  heard  a clattering  in  the  tops  of  the 
lindens,  as  the  broken  branches  fell  to  the  ground. 
But  this  artillery  was  only  a child’s  plaything  ; it  was 
not  sufficient  to  drive  the  besiegers  back  from  the 
hill. 

Once  more  Bertelskold  called  his  men  together. 
They  had  now  melted  away  to  about  thirty.  But  with- 
out stopping  to  count  whether  there  were  more  or  less, 
without  heeding  the  fire  from  more  than  a hundred 
muskets,  they  all  stormed  the  hill.  Here  was  fought 
out  the  last  battle  for  Majniemi,  man  against  man,  blow 
for  blow.  Never  had  Gustaf  Adolf  Bertelskold’s  iron 
arm  cut  down  with  such  fury  all  who  came  in  his  way; 
never  had  his  champions  so  irresistibly  broken  through 
the  enemy’s  wavering  ranks.  In  spite  of  his  brave  re- 
sistance, he  was  driven  from  the  hill.  Flora’s  palace 
was  covered  with  blood,  and  the  water  in  the  pond 
was  colored  red.  Once  more  victory  seemed  to  smile 
on  Majniemi’s  brave  defenders  , but  it  was  her  farewell 
glance, — the  last  sunny  ray  of  hope  on  Majniemi’s 


198 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


towers,  now  waving  their  flags  but  destined  never  to  see 
the  morrow. 

Bertelskold  was  hardly  in  possession  of  the  hill, 
before  the  cry  arose  behind  him  that  the  castle  was  on 
fire.  He  turned  around.  Evening  was  already  casting 
its  shadows  over  the  stately  building,  and  in  the  twilight 
he  saw  in  four  or  five  places  the  red  light  of  tongues  of 
fire,  where,  still  quite  small,  they  began  to  wind  them- 
selves out  under  the  cornice.  “ To  the  castle,  boys  ! ” 
he  shouted  in  a voice  of  thunder.  “If  we  succeed  in 
quenching  the  fire,  the  enemy  will  never  again  venture 
an  attack,  and  the  victory  is  ours  ! ” 

At  these  words  all  hastened  to  the  castle.  But  it 
was  already  too  late.  A thick  suffocating  smoke  brought 
to  naught  every  attempt  to  ascend  to  the  garret  and  get 
near  the  fire.  Soon  the  wooden  building  by  the  side  of 
the  castle  blazed  up,  and  then  all  effort  to  thwart  the 
flames  had  to  be  abandoned. 

All  the  people  were  called  together  by  the  beating 
of  the  drum  in  the  great  hall,  and  received  orders  to 
retreat.  Master  Pehr  and  the  rest  of  the  wounded 
were  laid  in  carts,  while  all  the  available  men,  mounted 
in  close  ranks  and  prepared  for  defense,  surrounded 
the  vehicles. 

Bertelskold  had  undertaken  all  these  preparations 
with  perfect  sang  froid , but  when  he  came  for  the  last 
time  to  leave  his  ancestral  castle,  his  courage  failed. 
He  wished  at  least  to  say  farewell  to  the  family  por- 
traits in  the  great  armory.  He  hastened  thither. 

The  flame  of  the  burning  house  outside  shone  clearly 
through  the  high  windows,  and  made  the  armory,  though 
filled  with  smoke,  as  light  as  day.  The  image  of  the 
founder  of  the  family,  again  placed  in  its  position, 
seemed  to  contemplate  his  descendant  with  a dark  and 
threatening  countenance,  and  in  the  flames’  wavering 
light  the  iron-clad  champions  of  the  Thirty-years  war 
all  around  him  seemed  to  move  upon  the  canvas  as 
though  they  would  spring  out  from  the  frames.  A bitter 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


199 


thought  penetrated  the  Carolin’s  soul.  His  brother 
Torsten  had  neglected  to  carry  the  pictures  away;  they 
would  be  consumed,  these  honorable  mementoes  of  his 
family  would  be  destroyed,  and  he  could  not  save  them. 
The  founder  of  the  house  was  buried  in  the  sea,  his 
image  would  be  destroyed  by  fire.  Dark  Fate,  what 
meanest  thou  by  this  ? 

Once  more  Bertelskold  looked  back.  Then  there 
met  him.  from  the  canvas  those  beautiful,  enthusiastic, 
never  to  be  forgotten  glances  with  which  Regina  von 
Emmeritz  had  once  fascinated  his  stern  grandfather. 
The  grandson  stood  like  one  petrified  ; those  dark  eyes 
flashed,  those  beauteous  princely  lineaments  seemed 
alive  ; a mild,  unspeakably  sad  smile  flitted  over  the 
noble  princess’  pale  lips  — her  mouth  opens — she 
wishes  to  speak — what  would  she  say  to  him  ? 

But  at  the  door  was  now  heard  an  anxious,  hurry- 
ing voice  : “ Come,  for  God’s  sake,  sir  Count  ! Mas- 

ter Pehr  bade  me  remind  you  of  the  powder  in  the 
vault.” 

Bertelskold  started  out.  His  people  were  ready  at 
the  gate;  the  word  concerning  the  powder  winged  every 
foot.  They  marched  out  in  the  dark  evening,  and  no 
enemy  was  seen. 

They  had  thus  reached  the  highway  on  the  north 
when  Bertelskold  suddenly  stopped  and  looked  back. 
His  ancestral  castle  was  now  on  all  sides  enveloped  in 
flames — one  single  gigantic  column  of  fire,  whose  light 
clearly  illuminated  all  the  surrounding  country. 

“ The  prisoners  ! ” exclaimed  Bertelskold.  “ Has 
any  one  let  the  prisoners  out  of  the  cellar  ? ” 

All  were  silent.  Since  mid-day  no  one  had  had 
time  to  think  of  the  unfortunate  men. 

“Two  men  may  voluntarily  accompany  me,”  con- 
tinued the  count,  “ or  if  not,  I will  go  alone,  and  the 
rest  may  continue  the  march.” 

“ Hold,  your  grace  ! ” cried  Master  Pehr,  “your  life 


200 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


is  at  stake  ! In  a few  minutes  the  fire  will  certainly 
have  reached  the  vaults.” 

“ The  enemy  himself  has  fired  the  castle  ; let  him 
answer  for  the  prisoners  ! ” objected  the  reluctant 
soldiers. 

“ For  shame  ! ” replied  Bertelskold  passionately. 
“ Friend  or  foe,  it  is  a matter  of  thirty  human  lives  ! ” 
And  with  these  words  he  sprang  back  to  the  castle. 
Two  men  followed  him,  his  faithful  Bang  and  the  brave 
and  clever  Lofving.  The  castle  yard  was  so  thick  with 
smoke,  and  the  heat  was  so  great,  that  they  with  the 
greatest  difficulty  and  danger  reached  the  cellar  door. 
It  was  an  iron  door  provided  with  a strong  lock,  and  no 
key  was  to  be  found.  But  the  greater  the  danger  the 
greater  Bertelskold’s  giant  strength.  He  broke  loose 
from  the  great  stairway  its  heated  bannister  of  iron;  the 
others  followed  his  example  ; the  solid  door  bent  before 
their  united  energies — it  burst  open.  They  rushed  in 
and  found  the  prisoners  already  half-dead  with  the  heat. 
They  must  first  let  them  out  into  the  garden  and  thence 
to  the  park.  A whole  crowd  of  marauders  from  the 
enemy  had  already  come  to  plunder.  Bertelskold  threw 
his  purse  to  the  prisoners  and  left  them  in  care  of  their 
countrymen,  and  with  his  followers  made  a circuit 
through  the  park  back  again  to  the  highway. 

Here  he  halted  once  more.  By  the  bright  firelight 
he  saw  the  enemy  in  closer  groups  swarming  about  the 
castle  as  near  as  the  flames  would  permit.  These  had 
now  reached  the  foundations.  About  five  minutes  the 
fire  continued  to  redden  the  cloudy  evening  sky  .... 
Then  the  earth  was  shaken  by  a frightful  report — the 
horses  started — a thick  ash-gray  pillar  of  smoke  and 
rubbish  arose  from  the  castle  and  for  the  moment  put 
out  the  light  so  that  the  brightly  illuminated  district 
was  at  once  enveloped  in  complete  darkness.  Then 
followed  a clattering  shower  of  stones,  which  fell  on 
every  side  and  penetrated  several  feet  into  the  earth. 
The  whole  of  that  lofty  and  proud  castle,  with  its  five 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


201 


towers,  had  disappeared  from  the  earth  and  buried  be- 
neath its  ruins  every  living  being  which  had  breathed 
within  twice  a gunshot  of  it. 

Upon  the  site  where  Majniemi  formerly  stood,  one 
now  sees  a small  substantial  peasant  cottage  surrounded 
by  high  birches,  near  a pretty  bay.  The  former  park 
is  now  a pasture,  and  the  bells  on  the  cattle  ring  and 
the  shepherd-girl  sings  her  simple  ballad  where  noble 
ladies  once  danced  on  the  hill  of  Flora’s  palace. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  STORKYRO. 

HE  results  of  Lybecker’s  unfortunate  retreat  soon 


x appeared,  both  as  they  affected  himself  and  the 
country.  He  was  removed  (without  the  king’s  knowl- 
edge), and  was  summoned  to  appear  before  the  council. 
Here  he  was  finally  acquitted,  as  Armfelt  magnani- 
mously undertook  his  defense.  He  fell  into  a sharp 
contest  with  Bishop  Gezelius,  however,  and  demanded 
redress  from  the  bishop.  Hereupon  there  followed  a 
new  and  bitter  lawsuit,  which  ended  with  Lybecker 
being  convicted  of  letting  fall  the  well-known  ex- 
pression : “ If  the  devil  does  not  take  the  king,  we 

have  no  peace  to  expect.”  These  insignificant,  forgot- 
ten words  affected  him  more  than  the  whole  weight  of 
Finland’s  loss.  He  was  condemned  to  lose  life,  honor 
and  goods,  was  pardoned  as  to  life  on  New  Year’s  day 
1718,  but  died  a few  months  later,  and  is  rather  to  be 
pitied  than  considered  intentionally  criminal,  for  history 
exonerates  his  memory  from  the  disgrace  of  treason  if 
it  cannot  also  release  him  from  the  hate  with  which  his 
contemporaries  loaded  him. 


202 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


In  September,  1713,  the  valiant  Carl  Gustaf  Arm- 
felt  took  command  in  Finland  ; but  it  was  already  too 
late  to  repair  Lybecker’s  mistakes.  He  could  not 
gather  more  than  six  thousand  men  when  his  army  was 
at  its  best,  and  the  Russians  had  possession  of  all  the 
southern  part  of  the  country.  In  order  to  check  their 
farther  incursion,  he  put  himself  on  the  defense  at 
Kuokkola  pass,  in  Pelkane,  in  the  heart  of  Tavastland. 
But  early  on  a foggy  autumn  morning,  the  6th  of  Octo- 
ber, 1713,  seven  thousand  Russians  crossed  over  Lake 
Pelkane  on  rafts  and  attacked  Armfelt  in  the  rear. 
After  the  bravest  defense,  the  little  Finnish  army  was 
driven  back  with  a loss  of  twelve  cannons,  eight  stand- 
ards and  more  than  five  hundred  men — or,  according  to 
some  authorities,  even  a thousand  men.  It  was  Arm- 
felt’s  wish  to  make  a stand  at  Tammersfors  ; but  here 
faltered  for  the  first  time  the  enduring  perseverance  of 
the  Finnish  soldiers,  or,  more  accurately,  of  what  re- 
mained of  the  Finnish  militia.  Half-naked,  famished 
and  tired  out  by  marching  in  the  chilling  autumn  rains, 
the  men  followed  the  vicious  habit  acquired  under  Ly- 
becker’s command,  and  deserted  in  such  large  squads 
that  Armfelt  was  compelled  to  retire  to  the  vicinity  of 
Wasa.  Most  of  the  militia  was  from  this  district;  here 
they  would  stand  by  their  colors  to  the  last  man. 

Meanwhile,  the  Russian  army  marched  by  way  of 
Tammersfors,  Birkola,  and  Tavastkyro,  to  Bjorneborg. 
These  marches  consumed  the  month  of  November,  and 
winter  set  in  early  and  severe  over  these  northern  set- 
tlements. 

In  the  beginning  of  December  the  Russian  cavalry 
made  a foraging  expedition  against  Nerpes  and  Christi- 
nestad  and  plundered  the  neighborhood.  Then  the 
Finnish  army  consolidated  at  Solf,  and  a watch  of  peas^ 
ants  was  stationed  at  Laihela  and  Umola.  It  is  here, 
in  Kauhajoki  chapel,  that  we  again  find  Gustaf  Bertel- 
skold  with  his  little  troop  of  volunteers  zealously  drill- 
ing the  peasants  in  the  use  of  weapons  and  the  arts  of 


THE  FUGITIVE, 


203 


war,  assisted  therein  by  those  vigorous  brothers,  Gabriel 
and  Israel  Peldan.  His  troop,  which  by  degrees  in- 
creased to  two  hundred  and  ninety  men,  was  also  joined 
by  six  brothers  named  Larsson,  from  Storkyro,  all 
manly  young  men,  led  by  the  eldest  brother,  Lars,  the 
same  who  at  Pelkane  was  spokesman  for  the  peasants 
who  waited  on  Lybecker.  The  enemy  also  remained 
quiet  in  the  winter  quarters;  and  thus  Christmas  went 
by,  and  the  whole  of  January,  1714,  without  any 
especial  adventure,  waiting  for  whatever  might  come. 

But  in  the  beginning  of  February  the  report  came 
that  the  enemy  were  advancing  from  Bj.orneberg  along 
the  winter  roads  and  upon  the  frozen  lakes  in  Tavast- 
kyro  and  Ikalis.  The  peasant  watch  in  Kauhajoki,  on 
the  12th  of  February,  received  orders  to  make  a recon- 
noisance  towards  Kurikka  chapel  on  the  enemy’s  road 
and  to  return  after  a two  days’  march. 

It  was  an  obscure  night,  with  little  moonlight,  and 
the  troop  had  made  about  five  miles  south  of  Luoppa 
village,  when  they  learned  that  the  enemy’s  outposts 
were  not  more  than  five  or  six  miles  away  on  the  other 
side  of  the  woods.  Therefore  they  must  from  a nearer 
point  ascertain  his  position  and  his  intentions. 

“ Friends/’  said  Bertelskold,  “ our  horses  can  never 
go  through  the  woods  and  the  snow.  Are  there  among 
you  a half  dozen  good  skaters  that  are  willing  to  risk 
life  for  king  and  fatherland  ? ” 

“ Sir  Major,”  answered  Lars  Larsson  quickly,  “ I 
and  my  brothers  are  exactly  as  many  as  you  want,  and 
from  our  childhood  have  our  skates  known  how  to 
overtake  the  wolf  in  the  forest.  Command,  and  we  are 
ready.” 

“ Well  said,  honest  Larsson,”  replied  the  chief;  “if 
my  word  has  any  weight  with  the  general,  the  pen  is 
already  cut  that  shall  sign  your  commission.  But 
beware  of  the  open  field;  if  the  Cossacks  get  at  you, 
you  are  riddled.” 

“ No  danger,”  said  the  peasant.  “If  we  are  not 


204 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


back  by  day-break,  remember  us  to  our  old  father.  So 
far  as  the  officer’s  commission  is  concerned,  major, 
many  thanks,  but  I do  not  care  for  it.  Our  family  be- 
long to  the  people,  and  you  are  the  only  nobleman  with 
whom  I have  ever  shaken  hands.  In  God’s  name,  for- 
ward ! ” 

“ A stiff-necked  democratic  race,  those  Larssons  ! ” 
said  Bertelskold  to  Gabriel  Peldan.  “ My  father 
and  my  grandfather  have  been  in  contention  with 
them.  But  they  are  brave  fellows,  God  bless  them, 
with  as  honest  hearts  as  ever  beat  under  a peasant’s 
jacket.” 

They  still  live  on  the  old  peasant-king  Bertila’s 
manor,”  answered  Peldan;  “ only  one  branch  of  the 
family  became  merchants  in  Wasa.  But  come,  major, 
let  us  rest  a few  hours  here  in  the  hut.” 

“ The  night  passed,  and  the  Larssons  did  not  return. 
It  was  broad  day,  and  they  did  not  appear.  Then  Ber- 
telskold with  ten  men  rode,  by  a circuitous  route, 
around  the  woods,  and  found  that  the  enemy  had 
already  marched  farther  from  the  deserted  village, 
where  they  had  rested.  But  the  tracks  of  the  horses’ 
hoofs  led  them  to  an  open,  almost  snowless  meadow 
by  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  here  the  Larssons  were 
found.  They  had  probably  ventured  too  near  the  vil- 
lage, and  upon  the  snowless  field  were  overtaken  by 
the  enemy’s  horsemen.  All  six  lay  close  beside  each 
other  on  the  bloody  tufts,  stiffened  in  the  sleep  of 
death;  a dead  horse  and  the  bloody  path  back  towards 
the  village  showed  that  they  had  dearly  sold  their 
young  lives.  They  had  fallen  as  brothers,  not  one  of 
them  had  attempted  to  desert  the  others,  and  as  broth- 
ers were  they  also  buried  — the  whole  six  side  by 
side. 

Sorrowfully  Bertelskold  and  his  comrades  hurried 
back  to  the  main  force.  It  was  as  if  this  little  prelude 
had  foreshadowed  the  result  of  the  great  and  bloody 
conflict  at  Storkyro. 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


205 


When  Armfelt,  the  sixteenth  of  February,  received 
reliable  information  of  the  enemy’s  advance,  he  called 
his  whole  command  together  for  a council  of  war  at  the 
Storkyro  parsonage.  The  most  of  them  voted  against 
action,  and  especially  the  chief  of  cavalry,  Major-Gen- 
eral De  la  Barre,  who  gave  as  a reason  that  hardly  half 
of  the  volunteers  who  were  streaming  together  from  all 
corners  had  arrived.  But  the  brave  Armfelt  had  seen 
sorrowful  specimens  of  the  policy  of  retreat;  his  mar- 
tial honor  was  wounded  by  reproofs  from  Stockholm, 
in  which  he  who  never  paled  was  twitted  of  being,  as 
the  words  ran,  “ sensitive  regarding  his  own  skin.”  He 
demanded  battle,  and  he  was  not  alone.  The  soldiers 
outside  raised  their  caps  upon  their  pikes,  loudly  de- 
manding battle,  and  the  peasants  added  to  this  that  if 
their  homes  were  to  be  given  up  to  be  pillaged  by  the 
enemy,  they  would  to  a man  desert  a miserable  army 
that  knew  nothing  but  to  fly  from  danger. 

The  battle  was  determined  upon,  and  the  Finnish 
army,  which  then  consisted  of  four  thousand  five  hun- 
dred regular  troops  and  fifteen  hundred  militia  from 
Storkyro,  Lillkyro,  Laihela,  Mustasaari,  Wdra  and 
Malak  parishes,  and  the  city  of  Wasa,*  was  stationed  in 
the  barley-fields  on  both  sides  of  the  frozen  Kyro  river, 
with  their  rear  sheltered  by  an  open,  roaring  water-fail 
and  by  flat  marshes  and  stone  hills.  Napo,  the  nearest 
hamlet,  about  twenty  miles  southeast  of  Wasa  and  con- 
sisting of  six  homes,  was  torn  down  and  brought  in  and 
made  into  breastworks.  In  this  position  they  awaited 
the  enemy  for  three  days,  during  weather  so  cold  that 
only  Charles  XII’s  warriors  could  withstand  it. 

The  1 8th,  a company  of  hostile  cavalry  showed 
itself,  and  was  saluted  with  a cannon  shot  from  head- 
quarters, “ which,”  says  the  records,  “ for  a bad  omen, 
did  no  better  than  to  shoot  the  horse  of  Bishop  Geze- 

* The  whole  of  Osterbotten’s  population  capable  of  bearing  arms  was  called 
out  for  the  country’s  defense,  and  a part  of  them  were  already  on  the  way. 
The  peasants  of  Ny-Carleby  were  only  a Swedish  mile  from  Storkyro  when 
the  battle  occurred. 


206 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


lius’  noble  trooper  who  was  posted  as  advance-guard; 
whereupon  the  Russians,  after  having  completely  in- 
spected the  situation,  withdrew.” 

February  19th,  at  mid-day,  the  Russian  army  was 
seen  in  full  march,  advancing  along  the  ice-covered 
river.  Their  number,  as  given  by  the  Russians  them- 
selves, was  eight  thousand,  three  hundred  and  eighty- 
four  men,  but  as  given  by  the  Swedes,  from  fifteen  to 
twenty  thousand,  and  they  were  led  by  the  brave  prince, 
Galitzin,  who  afterwards  as  highest  in  authority  over  con- 
quered Finland,  “ erected  for  himself,  by  his  gentleness 
and  his  magnanimity,  an  imperishable  monument  in 
the  hearts  of  the  unfortunate  inhabitants.”  Armfelt 
had  in  him  a worthy  opponent,  and  although  no  Finn 
hesitated  as  to  which  he  wished  might  have  the  honor 
of  the  victory,  they  could  both  in  truth  be  said  to  have 
deserved  it  as  warriors  and  as  men.  Before  the  bat- 
tle, Armfelt  rode  along  the  lines  of  troops,  whose 
frozen  fingers  could  hardly  hold  their  guns,  and  en- 
couraged them  with  a short  speech  and  a prayer.  They 
were,  he  said,  the  last  army  of  their  country,  and  upon 
them  rested  its  last  hope.  Their  watchword  should  be, 
“ With  God’s  help,”  and  verily  God  would  help  them, 
if  they  defended  themselves  unitedly  and  manfully,  as 
they  had  promised,  to  the  last  drop  of  blood. 

A loud  “ With  God’s  help  ” answered  these  words, 
and  the  battle  began.  A Russian  column  marched  up 
from  the  ice  on  the  north  shore  of  the  river,  and  united 
with  another  column  from  the  woods,  and  attacked  the 
left  wing  of  the  Finns.  At  the  same  time  the  Russians 
set  on  fire  the  Turpola  buildings  and  the  Finns  their 
retrenchments  made  of  the  torn-down  buildings.  The 
skies,  which  all  the  morning  had  been  cloudy,  began  to 
send  down  their  snow,  accompanied  with  strong  easterly 
squalls,  on  account  of  which  both  the  smoke  and  the 
snow  filled  the  eyes  of  the  Finns  so  that  they  could 
scarcely  see  the  enemy.  But  in  spite  of  this,  the  in- 
fantry of  the  left  wing  did  not  wait  for  the  attack,  but 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


207 


rushed  swiftly  forward,  and,  as  they  had  learned  in  the 
school  of  their  chief,  Charles  XII,  reserved  their  first 
salvo  until  they  were  within  ten  paces  of  the  enemy. 
The  effect  was  that  the  first  ranks  of  the  enemy  fell 
over  each  other  and  the  rest  were  violently  driven  back. 
But  they  rallied  for  the  second  attack.  During  this 
time  the  Finnish  right  wing  had  swung  around  over  the 
ice  and  came  to  the  assistance  of  the  left.  The  second 
attack  of  the  Russians  was  repulsed  with  still  greater 
loss.  Now  it  was  the  Finns  who  in  their  turn  attacked, 
taking  six  cannons,  which  without  delay  were  turned 
upon  the  enemy.  In  vain  the  Cossacks  rode  in  upon 
the  close  ranks  of  the  levies,  in  hopes  of  an  easier  vic- 
tory; they  were  turned  back  with  bloody  heads,  and 
the  battle  took  a decidedly  unfavorable  turn  for  the 
Russians. 

Prince  Galitzin  followed  these  movements  with 
lively  anxiety,  and  summoned  his  nearest  chiefs  to  a 
council  of  war.  Against  a desperate  people,  it  was 
said,  everything  was  at  risk,  for  if  the  third  attack 
should  be  repulsed,  the  Russian  army  would  be  lost  in 
these  bogs  and  forests  with  armed  peasants  all  around 
it.  It  was  therefore  determined  to  retreat  in  good 
order,  and  General  Bruce,  with  four  regiments  of  dra- 
goons, was  sent  to  prevent  the  Finnish  cavalry  from 
interfering  with  the  retreat.  While  Bruce  was  execut- 
ing this  commission,  and  before  his  men  had  even  fired 
a pistol,  he  was  astonished  to  see  De  la  Barre  wheel 
and  command  a retreat,*  which  was  effected  with  such 
zeal  that  when  the  last  finishing  conflict  began,  the 
chief  of  the  Finnish  cavalry  was  already  a league  away 
from  the  battle-field,  at  the  house  of  Gumse,  the  sheriff 

* According  to  Bruce’s  own  account  to  Provost  Wahl,  1718  : “ He  was,” 

he  said,  “ much  obliged  to  Gen.  De  la  Barre,  for  if  he  had  only  ordered  his 
men  to  quietly  smoke  a pipe,  the  victory  would  have  belonged  to  the  Swedes.” 
Such  was  also  the  general  belief  among  the  Finns,  and  it  was  added  that  De  la 
Barre,  on  account  of  his  jealousy  of  Armfelt,  had  begrudged  him  a victory. 
But  Armfelt’s  report  only  says  that  all  did  their  duty;  nor  was  De  la  Barre 
ever  called  to  an  account  for  his  behavior,  but  continued  in  the  service,  and 
with  Armfelt  made  the  unfortunate  expedition  against  Trondhjem  in  1718. 


208 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


of  the  district,  whom  he  bade  to  take  to  his  heels.  By 
this  means  the  right  wing  of  the  Finnish  infantry  was 
exposed,  and  Bruce  immediately  received  orders  for  his 
men  to  dismount  and  attack  it.  Here  he  met  the  peas- 
ants first,  and  succeeded  in  throwing  their  lines  into 
disorder.  At  the  same  time  the  defeated  Russian  in- 
fantry turned  about,  and  for  the  third  time  threw  itself 
upon  the  Finns,  who  were  now  on  all  sides  surrounded 
by  an  overpowering  force.  And  now  began  one  of 
those  terrible  massacres,  the  memory  of  which  ages  will 
not  obliterate,  and  where  fidelity  and  valor  fought — 

No  more  for  glorious  victory  fled, 

But  only  to  rejoin  the  dead.” 

The  whole  Finnish  infantry  was,  as  it  were,  squeezed 
into  a ring  of  pikes  and  of  muskets,  from  which  the 
shots  flashed  through  the  smoke  and  sleet.  Armfelt 
did  all  that  his  contemporaries  or  that  posterity  could 
demand  of  him  on  this  decisive  occasion.  “ My  heart 
fails  me  even  at  this  day,”  says  an  eye-witness,  “when 
I think  how  the  major-general,  with  sympathetic  words, 
rode  back  and  forth;  how  the  men  with  incredible 
cheerfulness  promised  to  fight  unto  death,  and  while  so 
doing,  at  the  sight  of  the  vast  multitude  of  the  enemy, 
with  tears  in  their  eyes  threw  themselves  on  their  knees 
and  begged  God  for  help,  and  then  fought  till  their  last 
breath.  I saw  there  many  a Finn  lying  dead,  who  in 
his  stiffened  hands  held  the  musket  whose  bayonet  still 
stuck  fast  in  the  body  of  his  enemy,  also  fallen.”  In 
truth,  it  was  not  a flock  of  sheep,  which,  driven  against 
a wall,  unresistingly  suffers  itself  to  be  slain.  It  was 
desperate  men,  who  for  every  blow  they  received 
returned  two,  and  who,  after  having  fired  away  their 
powder  and  hewed  in  pieces  their  swords  and  broken 
off  their  pikes,  still  with  frozen  hands  grasped  their 
guns  by  the  heated  barrels  and  broke  the  stocks  over 
their  enemies’  heads.  Time  and  again  they  tried  to 
reform  their  broken  ranks  and  beat  their  way  through; 


THE  FUGITIVE. 


209 


every  time  the  officers  fell  at  the  head  of  their  companies; 
every  time  the  companies  were  thrown  back  again  upon 
the  bloody,  crowded  center  of  the  infantry.  Three  com- 
panies of  cavalry  from  the  province  of  Abo  were  all  that 
manfully  sustained  the  honor  of  their  colors.  They 
were  commanded  by  Axel  Beere,  who  fell  upon  the 
battle-field,  and  Kuhlfelt  and  Freudenfelt,  who,  badly 
wounded,  escaped. 

The  conflict  lasted  three  hours,  and  at  its  close  the 
Finnish  army  was  destroyed.  More  than  two  thou- 
sand men  lay  fallen  in  the  bloody  snow;  the  soldiers 
by  files,  the  peasants  by  parishes,  the  officers  so  nearly 
to  a man  that  towards  the  close  the  shreds  of  three  regi- 
ments were  commanded  by  a subordinate  officer.  The 
Russian  loss  was  also  very  heavy,  but  was  more  than 
balanced  by  the  results  of  the  battle,  which  brought 
with  it  the  conquest  of  the  whole  of  this  northern 
land. 

Armfelt  himself  was  one  of  the  last  to  leave  the 
battle-field,  and  with  difficulty  escaped  capture.  With 
some  of  his  companions  he  hurried  through  the  forest 
to  Laihela  and  thence  to  Wasa.  But  it  was  in  Old 
Carleby  that  were  first  gathered  the  small  remains  of 
the  Finnish  army,  which  now,  in  consequence  of  De  la 
Barre’s  consideration  for  the  safety  of  his  own  men, 
consisted  for  the  most  part  of  cavalry  ; as  it  was  quite 
rare,  says  a contemporary  record,  to  see  an  infantry- 
officer  who  had  come  out  of  the  action  alive. 

Thus  ended  the  unfortunate  battle  of  Storkyro, 
which,  for  the  severe  cold  of  the  northern  country 
in  which  it  was  fought  as  well  as  for  the  bravery  there 
displayed,  and  for  the  loss  of  men,  about  one-third  of 
the  belligerents  being  left  on  the  field,  occupies  a nota- 
ble place  among  the  military  events  of  all  times.  For 
the  destiny  of  Finland,  this  district  seems  to  have  been 
destined  by  the  Norns  as  an  altar  of  sacrifice  ; for, 
ninety-four  years  after  this  event,  a cloudy  Autumn 
day,  occurred  the  battle  of  Oravais.  scarcely  four 
O 9* 


210 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Swedish  miles  from  the  battle-field  of  Storkyro  ; and 
when  the  sun  went  down  on  these  two  days  and  these 
two  fields  the  night  darkened  as  deeply  over  the  hopes 
of  those  then  living  as  if  the  morrow  was  never  to 
dawn  for  their  crushed  and  bleeding  fatherland. 

Of  Gustaf  Bertelskold  it  is  told  that  he  and  his 
valiant  little  troop  stood  during  the  whole  battle  in  the 
hottest  of  the  fight  on  the  left  wing.  There,  one  after 
another,  his  men  fell  at  his  side  ; the  broad-shouldered, 
honest  Simon  Bang,  the  faithful  and  active  Miltopoeus, 
and  all  of  the  former  students  excepting  the  brothers 
Peldan,  fell  there  by  honorable  wounds  in  the  last  con- 
flict for  their  fatherland.  And  then  Bertelskold,  seeking 
death,  threw  himself  in  among  the  enemy’s  closest 
ranks  ; but  all  yielded,  all  went  down  before  his  des- 
perate blows,  and,  almost  without  knowing  it  or  wishing 
it,  he  cut  his  way  through,  and  found  himself  the  day 
after,  astonished  that  he  still  lived,  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Wasa.  They  said  that  in  this  flight  he  was  on 
the  chase  for  De  la  Barre,  in  order  to  wreak  vengeance 
upon  him  for  all  the  disgrace,  all  the  ruin  that  he  had 
brought  upon  Storkyro  ; but  the  chief  of  the  Finnish 
cavalry  had  a good  start  and  could  not  be  overtaken. 
Certain  it  is  that  shortly  afterward  Bertelskold  disap- 
peared, and  it  was  taken  for  granted  that  in  his  blind 
rage  he  had  been  killed  or  taken  prisoner  by  the  Rus- 
sians. How  much  ground  there  was  for  this  conjec- 
ture, will  appear  in  the  next  story. 

On  that  field,  which,  the  nineteenth  of  February, 
1714,  was  watered  by  the  blood  of  so  many  brave  men, 
now  every  summer  wave  rich  crops  of  that  excellent 
variety  of  grain  known  as  Wasa  rye.  It  sucks  the  sub- 
stance of  its  kernel  from  the  bones  of  champions  who 
moulder  till  the  judgment-day  under  its  most  verdant 
knolls  ; and  sometimes  even  yet,  when  the  plow  turns 
the  renowned  furrow,  its  iron  point  rattles  against  pieces 
of  rusty  swords  or  the  whitened  bones  of  an  arm  once 
sinewy  and  accustomed  to  strife.  The  broad  river, 


THE  FUGITIVE . 


211 


upon  whose  frozen  waters  so  many  breathed  their  last 
sigh,  flows  with  a gentle  murmur  through  these  fer- 
tile fields,  and  upon  its  level  shores  are  flourishing 
villages  with  handsome  red-painted  houses  and  indus- 
trious inhabitants.  The  whole  neighborhood  presents 
such  an  aspect  of  cultivation  and  prosperity  that  the 
wayfarer  asks  with  wonder  if  it  is  the  design  of  Provi- 
dence that  peace  shall  reap  where  war  has  sowed.  The 
wood  has  disappeared  or  retired  to  a great  distance  ; 
the  stone-hills  alone  remain  from  those  savage  days,  with 
their  rugged,  defiant  cliffs  which  were  once  the  point 
of  support  of  the  Finnish  army.  Even  the  genius  of 
the  people  seems  to  bear,  as  it  were,  a scar  from  the 
ancient  conflicts  ; there  is  at  bottom  a certain  wildness 
left  in  their  industrious,  peaceful  disposition,  and  when 
the  winter  snow  goes  forth  in  tempestuous  whirls  over 
the  wide  plain,  one  seems  to  hear  Armfelt’s  shout  of 
command,  the  sound  of  the  hoofs  of  Bruce’s  dragoons, 
and  galloping  away  in  the  snow-storm  the  Finnish 
cavalry  under  whose  feet  the  hopes  of  Finland  were 
trampled  down. 

A morning  has  again  dawned  over  both  Storkyro’s 
and  Oravais’  night.  Its  sun  is  not  so  sad  that  it  can 
only  shine  on  the  graves  of  the  departed,  nor  is  it  gay 
enough  to  play  with  rosy  hues  alone  over  the  unknown 
destiny  of  the  future. 


PART  III.— THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


INTERLUDE. 


NE  evening,  the  last  of  October,  a step  was  heard 


KJ  in  the  dark  garret  stairway,  and  some  one  fum- 
bled after  the  latch  of  the  Surgeon’s  chamber-door. 
The  little  circle  there  assembled  turned  curiously,  for 
no  one  else  was  expected  ; the  company  was  complete 
with  the  exception  of  the  schoolmaster,  Svenonius,  who 
for  several  weeks  had  been  sick,  and  was  expected  all 
the  less  because  the  gossips  of  the  town,  who  always 
had  cognizance  of  all  important  events,  had  distinctly 
stated  that  the  learned  magister  was  that  same  evening 
to  be  cupped. 

Yet  it  was  no  other  than  Svenonius  in  his  own  per- 
son, who  now  entered,  somewhat  unsteady  in  his  gait, 
and  puffing  after  clambering  up  the  tiresome  garret 
stairs.  His  tall  lean  figure,  scarcely  a hand’s-breadth 
shorter  than  the  Surgeon’s  own,  seemed  in  his  worn 
black  coat  even  leaner  than  before,  and  his  spectacles, 
whose  bows  were  lost  in  a forest  of  tufty  black  hair 
which  surrounded  his  pale  cheeks  like  pine  trees  round 
a winter  lake,  hardly  had  a resting-place  on  that  sharp 
and  shrivelled  nose,  the  sight  of  which  had  never  failed 
to  command  a wholesome  respect  from  the  school-boys 
of  the  town.  The  learned  man’s  face,  provided  with 
a pair  of  thin  lips,  a prominent  chin  and  two  sprightly 
brown  eyes,  had  little  claim  to  be  called  fascinating  ; 
but  it  was  considerably  softened  by  the  poor  fellow’s 
undisguised  joy  at  again  finding  himself  in  a company 
which  he  so  long  had  missed,  and  which,  with  all  its 


(212) 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME. 


213 


angularities,  consisted  of  downright  good  people  like 
himself. 

One  would  not  easily  find  two  more  perfect  oppo- 
sites than  the  Surgeon’s  learned  auditor,  and  his  friend 
and  adversary,  the  short,  fat,  sleek  postmaster,  Captain 
Svanholm,  with  his  (in  his  own  mind  at  least)  martial 
aspect,  his  light  stubby  hair,  and  the  long  mustaches 
whose  original  ruddy  hue  time  had  changed  to  gray, 
and  out  of  which  his  groping  thumb  on  every  important 
occasion  never  failed  to  draw,  as  it  were,  brilliant 
ideas  and  appropriate  and  vigorous  words.  The  post- 
master had  on  as  usual  a close  green  hunting-coat,  with 
posthorns  on  the  buttons,  and  no  less  threadbare  than 
the  schoolmaster’s;  and  besides,  snuff-brown  small 
clothes,  with  a gold  pistol  on  his  fob-chain,  yellow  vest, 
and  a cravat  of  indefinite  color,  which  rather  variegated 
involucre  covered  an  individual  as  conservative  as  any 
German  Haudegen,  and  who  would  have  been  exceed- 
ingly monotonous  if  nature  had  not  furnished  him  with 
a passionate  temper  and  a disposition  to  quarrel  when 
in  his  cups; — the  latter,  however,  never  came  in  ques- 
sion  at  the  evening  assemblies  of  the  strictly  temperate 
Surgeon. 

Svanholm  was  the  first  to  bid  his  learned  friend  wel- 
come, and  was  delighted  to  see  him  again  looking  “ as 
fresh  as  a Cossack  in  the  twilight.”  In  this  sentiment 
the  old  grandmother,  Anne  Sophie,  and  the  Surgeon 
himself,  joined  with  hearty  good-will,  while  the  children 
felt  that  their  old  respect  was  not  a little  increased  by 
the  new  and  sharper  angles  which  sickness  had  left  in 
the  schoolmaster’s  figure.  They  were  all  astonished  at 
the  courage  of  this  invalid,  who,  like  Dobeln,  threw  his 
medicine  into  the  corner  to  listen  to  the  Surgeon’s  war- 
stories. 

“ Do  I care  for  war-stories?  ” answered  the  school- 
master cheerfully.  “ Quidquid  delirant  reges  plectuntur  / 
Achivi.  The  honor  of  the  hero  is  paid  for  by  the  peo- 
ple. No,  my  dear  brother,  I had  enough  of  ‘ The 


214 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Blue;  ’ I have,  like  a good  Christian  and  a peaceable 
man,  let  the  most  of  our  part  in  the  great  war  storm  by; 
and  now  that  the  worst  of  the  noise  is  over,  I come  to 
be  present  at  the  beginning  of  a new  and  more  peace- 
ful time  after  the  frantic  northern  lion  has  ceased 
blustering.  ” 

“ Conscience  ! Do  you  say  that  ? ” roared  Svan- 
holm,  and  rose  up  like  a fighting-cock  to  his  full 
height — five  feet  and  five  inches  from  crown  to  sole. 

“ Certainly  I say  it,”  answered  the  schoolmaster  un- 
affrighted. “A  bit  of  bread  is  better  than  a piece  of 
lead,  a straw-roof  than  a bivouac,  a book  than  a sword, 
a harvest  field  than  a battle  field.  The  fact  is  that 
Charles  XII  procured  for  his  whole  kingdom  lead, 
bivouacs,  swords  and  battle  fields  in  abundance;  but  all 
the  less  bread,  and  roofs,  and  books,  and  har- 
vests . . . 

“ We  have  heard  that  before,”  interrupted  the  Sur- 
geon, who  was  unwilling  to  let  the  old  contention  kindle 
up  anew,  “ and  therefore  Brother  Svanholm  ought  to 
have  lived  in  the  first  two  decades  of  the  former  cycle 
and  Brother  Svenonius  in  the  decade  next  following,  so 
that  each  one  would  have  lived  in  a time  suited  to  him, 
instead  of  unseasonably  haunting  the  present,  each  one 
biased  by  his  own  partiality.  Brother  Svanholm  shall 
learn  what  war  costs,  and  Brother  Svenonius  shall 
notice  how  the  giants  of  history  cast  their  shadows  far 
in  advance  of  their  times.  It  is  with  history  as  with  the 
setting  sun:  the  lower  it  sinks  in  the  night  of  the  past, 
the  more  colossal  become  the  shadows  of  those  terres- 
trial objects  which  chance  to  come  within  its  light.” 

“ I think  Cousin  Back  has,  God  help  us,  ruin  enough 
to  tell  us  about,”  said  the  old  grandmother,  wishing  to 
do  her  part  to  put  aside  the  subject  of  controversy. 
“ Yet  I hope  that  this  story  will  be  nothing  near  so  ter- 
ribly wild  and  bloody  as  the  former  one.” 

“It  is  in  this  wise,”  said  the  Surgeon.  “ We  are 
now  at  1714.  Following  that  were  seven  of  the  longest 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


215 


and  most  sorrowful  years  that  Finland  ever  experienced. 
But  the  great  northern  war,  as  well  as  Charles  XII,  had 
at  that  time  already  played  out  its  best  card,  and  what 
came  after  that,  was  the  surgical  fever  which  follows 
the  conflict  and  goes  before  restoration  to  health;  it  was 
a long  and  gloomy  combat  with  death,  filled  with  des- 
perate efforts  to  save  a broken  greatness;  it  was  a time 
in  which  the  pursuits  of  peace  were  feeble,  during  which 
the  seeds  of  a new  future  took  root  unnoticed  in  the 
rubbish  of  a^colossal  structure  fallen;  one  of  those 
wonderful  eras  which  seem  to  have  no  present,  but  in 
which  men  live  entirely  in  the  memory  of  the  past  and 
in  the  hope  of  the  future,  contented  with  almost  any 
change  whatever,  if  they  can  but  be  saved  from  that 
fearful  uncertainty  which  oppressed  and  paralyzes  them. 
It  is  very  remarkable  to  see  how  a people  grows  old. 
The  twelve  years  next  after  1709  changed  the  Swedish 
people  from  boys  to  old  men  ; fortunately  the  boy  re- 
mained in  the  spirit  of  the  people,  and  may  be  found 
there  to  this  day,  and  so  no  one  knows  what  moment 
the  sundered  army  may  regain  its  elastic  power.  But 
there  are  scars  that  can  never  be  entirely  obliterated, — 
scars  of  the  soul  rather  than  the  body, — and  it  is  cer- 
tain that  the  whole  genius  of  the  North  has  been  dif- 
ferent since  1721.  Either  Charles  XII  or  Peter  the 
Great  or  their  epochs  were  born  a second  time.” 

“ Cousin,  you  have  told  us  a great  deal  about  Gosta 
Bertelskold,  but  next  to  nothing  about  his  brother  Tor- 
sten,” interrupted  the  old  grandmother,  whose  practical 
mind  always  carried  her  “from  sounds  to  things,”  from 
the  region  of  resonance  straight  forward  to  men  and 
events.  “ I doubt  very  much  if  either  of  them  will 
ever  be  as  capable  a man  as  their  father;  they  have  no 
time  for  it,  poor  boys,  on  account  of  the  everlasting 
fighting.” 

“You  forget,”  replied  Svanholm,  forcibly,  “that 
Gosta  Bertelskold  escaped  from  captivity  and  has 
fought  as  a partisan  in  not  less  than  fifty  engagements, 


216 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


not  to  mention  the  great  battles.  For  example,  when 
he  with  fifty  companions  of  the  genuine  sort,  defended 
Majniemi  and  came  so  near  being  buried  in  the 
ruins.” 

“ Is  Majniemi  destroyed  ? ” asked  Svenonius  with  as 
much  astonishment  as  his  limited  admiration  for  inci- 
dents of  war  allowed. 

“ Heroism  ! don’t  you  remember  that  ? When  they 
landed  to  make  a diversion  against  the  Russians’  base 
of  operations  at  Abo  ? ” answered  the  postmaster. 

“ But  I have  not  heard  a word  of  it,”  replied  the 
schoolmaster. 

“ Yes,  one  must  live  among  switches,  floggings  and 
grammars,  to  forget  such  things,”  rejoined  the  post- 
master. “Brother  does  not  remember  perhaps  either  the 
adventures  in  Abo  and  Borga,  or  the  attempt  to  cap- 
ture the  czar,  or  Lofving’s  exploits,  or  the  story  of  De 
la  Barre — whom  may  the  devil  take,  hair  and  all — with 
respect  be  it  said,  since  no  one  is  permitted  to  swear 
here.” 

“ Not  a word  Brother  Svanholm  ! ” 

“ Heroism  ! He  is  schoolmaster  and  teaches  child- 
ren morals,  and  does  not  know  the  least  thing  about 
the  battle  of  Storkyro.  He  is  magister  in  the  bargain, 
and  would  any  day  get  his  coat  dusted  at  a college  ex- 
amination ! ” 

“ Brother  Svanholm  ought  not  to  mix  things  that  do 
not  belong  together,”  suggested  Svenonius,  evidently 
stung.  “ I believe  I know  as  much  about  the  battle  of 
Storkyro  as  you  do,  but  I have  not  heard  a word  about 
it  from  Brother  Back.” 

“ Great  heavens  ! and  he  talked  about  it  a whole 
long  evening.” 

“ Yes,  but  then  Uncle  Svenonius  was  away,”  in- 
terrupted little  Jonathan,  proud  of  putting  an  end  to 
the  gentlemen’s  controversy  by  so  convincing  a remark. 
The  Surgeon  had  winked  to  the  old  grandmother  to  let 
them  quarrel;  and  Anne  Sophie,  who  was  just  then  reel- 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


217 


in g off  some  thread,  laughed  so  that  she  broke  her 
thread  twice. 

“ There  is  some  justice  in  that,  my  little  old  man,” 
answered  the  postmaster,  somewhat  confused.  “Brother 
Svenonius  was  not  with  us  at  Storkyro.  Instead  of 
taking  Wiborg,  he  took  elder-tea,  the  honorable  peace- 
advocate.” 

“ If  Brother  Svanholm  had  been  at  Storkyro  he 
would  not  have  run  at  Karstula,”  remarked  the  school- 
master, who  could  not  put  up  with  the  warlike  captain’s 
ridicule  of  his  learning. 

“ Sir,  I did  not  run,  I retired  in  good  order  ! ” 
roared  the  captain,  while  the  points  of  his  mustaches 
bent  upward  much  as  the  whiskers  of  an  old  house  cat 
do  at  the  unexpected  sight  of  a starved  dog  in  the 
kitchen. 

“ Tell  them  then,  Cousin  Back,  how  we  succeeded 
in  crossing  the  Kyro  river  on  the  ice  and  are  now  at — 
really,  I don’t  know  where,”  said  the  grandmother,  who 
had  become  infected  with  the  fun,  but  was  apprehensive 
on  account  of  Captain  Svanholm’s  mustaches — just  as 
by  the  rings  around  the  moon,  one  predicts  wind  and 
rain. 

“ Never  mind  that  now,”  said  the  Surgeon,  in  a tone 
of  reconciliation.  “ We  find  ourselves  for  the  present 
in  Stockholm,  in  the  year  1714,  and  are  fully  occupied 
with  the  diplomatic  intrigues  which  undermined  the 
ground  on  which  the  northern  lion  took  his  last  defiant 
steps.  And  since  I do  not  feel  myself  competent  to 
measure  every  hand  that  here  and  everywhere  about 
was  stretched  out  in  the  darkness,  after  the  tottering 
crown  and  the  mouldering  monarchy,  we  will  see  what 
became  of  Torsten  Bertelskold,  who  at  that  time  was  a 
prominent  person,  and  who  represented  what  would 
happen  in  Brother  Svenonius’  epoch,  as  the  Carolin 
Gsota  Bertelskold  belonged,  body  and  soul,  to  the  time 
of  Brother  Svanholm,  which  now  draws  to  a close.” 

“ I can  not  imagine  that  Brother  Back  intends  to 
10 


218 


TIMES  GF  CHARLES  XII. 


treat  us  to  quill-fighters  as  long  as  Charles  XII  is 
on  his  feet,”  said  the  captain  peevishly. 

The  Surgeon  remained  silent  for  a moment.  “It 
would  be  childish,”  said  he,  “ to  expect  any  sudden 
leap  in  the  fortunes  of  the  people  or  the  development 
of  the  times.  There  may  be  periods  when  affairs 
progress  so  evenly  that  one  thinks  everything  remains 
unchanged,  and  then  there  suddenly  comes  a crash 
which  turns  everything  topsy-turvy,  and,  as  it  were, 
brings  forth  a new  era,  full-grown.  But  if  you  look 
about,  you  will  perceive  that  the  new  era  had  a long 
time  before  taken  root  in  that  which  was  and  is  only 
the  ripened  fruit  of  seed  planted  years  and  generations 
back.  There  is  no  time  so  complete  in  itself  that  it  is 
not  also  a transition  to  something  new.  Making  a 
comparison,  I would  say  that  every  time  works  its 
way  upward  by  degrees.  Now  it  cannot  be  disputed 
that  at  one  time  Brother  Svanholm  was  a lieutenant  ; 
well,  then,  lieutenant  as  he  was,  he  had  an  ensign  in 
him  and  a captain  a-brewing,  and  you  see  therefore 
the  lieutenant  was  only  passing  by,  as  if  on  a foraging 
expedition.” 

“ But  the  captain  has  fixed  his  standard  in  the 
ground  and  gone  into  winter-quarters,”  observed  Svan- 
holm good-naturedly,  with  a sigh  at  the  thought  that  in 
his  haversack  might  also  have  been  a field-marshal’s 
baton. 

“Time  could  better  be  likened  to  a postmaster,” 
said  Svenonius. 

“ Yes,  and  to  a schoolmaster  or  a surgeon,” 
answered  the  old  hostess.  “ Time  can  be  likened  to  a 
great  many  things  besides  old  men  with  gray  hair, 
though  it  is  customary  to  paint  him  as  an  old  man. 
Time  is  essentially  an  eternal  youth.  He  cannot  brook 
decay.  He  always  wafts  it  away  with  his  great  storm- 
filled  wings,  in  order  to  put  in  its  place  something 
young  and  fresh.  But  the  old  do  not  understand  such 
things  ; they  believe  that  the  times  and  the  world  are 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME, 


219 


continually  growing  worse,  because  they  cannot  accus- 
tom themselves  to  the  thought  that  a new  time  is  com- 
ing forward  under  new  forms.” 

Anne  Sophie,  who  in  her  admiration  for  Charles 
XII  almost  surpassed  the  postmaster  and  was  herself 
only  excelled  by  the  haughty  little  Jonathan,  had  long 
found  it  difficult  to  remain  silent,  and  now  advanced 
like  a skirmisher  with  : “ Godfather  will  not  deny 

that  the  times  after  Charles  XII  dwindled  to  the  pro- 
portions of  a dwarf.” 

“ Yes,  to  daubs  and  blots  and  misery  and  creeping 
things  ! ” interrupted  Captain  Svanholm,  like  a faithful 
ally. 

“ Wait,  wait,  we  are  yet  some  way  from  that,”  said 
the  Surgeon  evasively.  “ Taken  strictly,  we  are  all 
justices  of  too  inferior  an  order  to  judge  such  a lusty 
fellow  as  humanity.  It  is  best  for  us  to  let  him  judge 
himself.” 

“ Cousin,  do  you  intend  to  take  us  back  to  Finland 
again  ? ” asked  grandmother. 

“ It  may  be,  if  it  cannot  be  avoided.  For  my  part 
I have  a great  liking  for  nature  in  its  original  wildness, 
but  I do  not  like  artificial  deserts,  especially  where  my 
forefathers  have  lived.” 

“ Those  good,  honest  men  ! They  must  have 
endured  much  evil ! ” 

The  Surgeon  did  not  reply.  But  his  gray  eyebrows 
descended,  and  without  being  conscious  of  it  he  broke 
the  mouth-piece  off  his  old  silver-mounted  curled- 
birch  pipe. 

When  all  were  still,  grandmother  finally  asked  if  he 
would  not  begin  now. 

“ Yes,”  he  answered  indifferently. 

“ And  what  is  the  new  story  called  ? ” 

“ The  shadow  of  a name.” 


220 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  RIKSDAG  CLUB. 

ONE  evening  in  March  in  the  year  1714,  a company 
of  fifty  or  sixty  persons  was  assembled  at  Colonel 
Count  Gustaf  Lewenhaupt’s  in  the  vicinity  of  Riddar- 
hus  square  in  Stockholm.  The  window-blinds  were 
carefully  closed,  and,  to  judge,  from  the  servants,  who 
for  no  obvious  purpose  were  posted  in  the  stairways  as 
well  as  at  the  entrance,  they  seemed  at  the  same  time 
desirous  of  avoiding  the  appearance  of  a secret  meeting 
and  careful  to  protect  themselves  from  all  surprises. 

An  experienced  observer  could  readily  gather  from 
the  varied  elements  of  the  company,  that  this  was  no 
common  evening  entertainment  where  the  noble  lords 
made  up  for  the  many  cares  of  the  day  ; nor  one  of 
those  party-meetings  which  were  so  common  in  these 
restless  times,  and  especially  now  during  the  sitting  of 
the  diet,  when  “ the  cat  was  away  and  the  mice  could 
play,”  as  one  of  the  friends  of  the  king  openly  expressed 
himself  in  the  house  of  nobles.  Here  were  seen  expe- 
rienced old  men  from  the  bitter  times  of  Charles  XI, 
members  of  the  humiliated  and  now  beggared  nobility 
who  could  never  forgive  the  Pfaltz-house  for  the  Reduc- 
tion and  the  Sovereignty  ; middle-aged  men  who  had 
grown  weary  of  wars  and  taxes  and  reduced  salaries  and 
military  supremacy  ; youths,  “ full  of  the  future  ” but 
rather  empty  of  all  that  pertained  to  the  present,  and 
who  had  no  higher  wish  than  to  make  a noise  in  the 
world,  no  matter  in  what  way.  All  of  these  could  never- 
theless be  contained  in  a single  party,  provided  they 
all,  like  the  host,  belonged  to  the  higher  orders  of  the 
nobility  ; but  besides  these,  the  cream  of  the  Swedish 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME . 


221 


aristocracy,  who  were  here  represented  by  several  bril- 
liant names,  there  were  also  some  of  the  lower  nobility, 
such  as  Stjerneld,  Leijonmark,  Wulfvenstjerna,  and  in 
addition  several  peasant  priests  and  civil  officers,  whose 
names  have  a very  citizen-like  sound — such  as  Lars 
Molin,  Erik  Benzelius,  Adam  Schtitz, — but  who  were 
nevertheless  called  to  play  an  important  part  in  the 
political  revolutions  of  that  time. 

Somewhat  apart  from  the  rest,  in  the  recess  of  a 
window,  stood  a group  engaged  in  a lively  conversa- 
tion. It  was  Major-General  Count  Abraham  Brahe 
and  Vice-Admiral  Baron  Axel  Lewenhaupt,  who  had 
with  them  the  vice-president  of  the  Abo  court,  Sven 
Leijonmark,  and  seemed  to  be  softly  but  earnestly 
elaborating  their  views  to  this  influential  party-cham- 
pion. To  this  group  was  soon  added  a fourth  member, 
at  that  time  royal  librarian  at  the  Upsala  University, 
Benzelius,  whom  one  of  his  contemporaries  called  “ a 
young  germ  of  everything  brilliant  which  afterwards 
came  or  could  come  to  his  lot,”  though  he  did  not  look 
higher  than  the  seat  of  the  Archbishop  at  Upsala.  The 
conversation  referred  to  the  deplorable  condition  of  the 
kingdom,  as  set  forth  in  a memorial  offered  in  the  house 
of  nobles,  by  Lewenhaupt,  as  a proof  of  the  necessity, 
in  such  a desperate  situation  and  when  nearly  all  hope 
of  ever  seeing  the  king  again  was  lost,  of  appointing — 
a regent. 

This  bold  word  seemed  to  cause  no  small  amount  of 
embarrassment. 

“ Since  his  majesty’s  glorieuse  campaigns  have  left 
us  nothing  but  honor,  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  save  that 
at  home  as  well  as  abroad.”  Thus  Axel  Lewenhaupt 
expressed  himself. 

“ His  royal  majesty  cannot  take  it  amiss  that  certain 
matters  which  cannot  be  decided  at  Demotika  come  to 
a speedier  termination  here,”  said  Gustaf  Lewenhaupt, 
with  much  caution. 

“ God  has  set  a limit  before  kings,  beyond  which 


222 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


they  cannot  go,  and  all  good  Swedes  may  make  timely 
preparations  for  such  a mortal  event,”  observed  Sven 
Leijonmark,  with  the  devout  boldness  which  character- 
ized this  crafty  party-man. 

A smile,  almost  scornful,  curled  the  lips  of  Benze- 
lius.  “ My  good  gentlemen,”  said  he,  raising  his  voice 
so  that  all  were  attentive,  “ you  are  setting  up  systems 
of  government,  and  whispering  in  each  other’s  ears  fair- 
sounding words,  concealing  hooks  and  spurs,  presum- 
ing that  the  northwest  winds  may  at  any  time  take  them 
to  Demotika.  In  plain  words,  we  priests  and  citizens 
are  invited  here  to  agree  concerning  what  ought  to  be 
done  to  save  the  country,  with  or  without  music  in  the 
words.” 

“ The  peasantry  desire  the  princess  as  regent  ! ” 
cried  Major  Stjerneld,  in  his  customary  rough  way 
severing  the  Gordian  knot.  It  was  he  who  worked 
most  zealously  for  this  object,  and  for  a long  time  with 
slight  success,  for  the  peasantry  were,  of  all,  most  loyal 
to  the  king. 

“ The  major  says  this  with  remarkable  certainty,” 
said  Bishop  Molin,  with  a statesman’s  prudence. 

“ I have  the  evidence  in  my  pocket,  and  will  lay  it 
before  the  nobles  to-morrow,”  replied  Stjerneld,  without 
reflection. 

“ I would  sooner  have  thought  that  the  peasantry 
would  submit  to  be  ruled  by  the  renowned  boot,”* 
exclaimed  Judge  Baron  Conrad  Ribbing  contemptu- 
ously. 

Benzelius,  of  peasant  extraction  himself,  was  en- 
raged. “ The  judge  knows,  as  we  all  do,  that  that  boot 
was  not  made  by  any  shoemaker  of  the  house  of 
nobles;  and  the  peasantry  of  Sweden  will,  neither  now 
nor  hereafter,  suffer  themselves  to  be  governed  by  boots, 
even  if  they  are  ornamented  with  golden  spurs.” 

“ Nor  drive  with  a fifth  wheel  under  their  wagon,” 


*This  refers  to  the  wide-spread  falsehood  which  Voltaire  also  helps  to 
circulate,  that  Charles  XII  sent  his  boot  to  the  council  to  preside  in  his  stead. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


223 


replied  Ribbing,  nettled,  referring  to  the  proposition  to 
make  a fifth  order  of  the  civil  officers  who  were  peas- 
ants, which  proposition  was  supposed  to  have  originated 
with  Benzelius. 

“ No  quarreling,  gentlemen,”  interrupted  the  bishop. 
“ We  have  come  here  to  agree  as  to  the  best  method  of 
instituting  a strong  form  of  government  during  the  ab- 
sence of  the  king.  The  matter  will  come  up  in  the 
house  of  nobles  to-morrow,  and  all  patriots  must  be 
united  or  everything  will  go  to  pieces.” 

“ What  follows  ? ” exclaimed  Stjerneld.  “ We  shall 
cut  the  claws  of  the  Holstein  party  by  immediately  in- 
stalling her  royal  highness  in  the  government.” 

“ Yet,  with  that  limited  power  which  for  the  prosper- 
ity of  the  country  in  such  circumstances  ought  to  be 
insisted  on,”  added  Count  Brahe,  with  an  aristocratic 
inclination  of  his  proud  neck. 

“The  count  is  right,”  said  Leijonmark, who  had  re- 
publican proclivities.  “ Fata  trahunt  nolentes.  This  is 
necessary,  in  case  anything  fatal  should  happen  to  the 
king,  which  God  forbid,  so  that  no  progressive  acteur 
may  direct  the  affairs  of  state  to  the  destruction  of  the 
kingdom.” 

“ The  welfare  of  the  kingdom  demands  that  the 
form  of  the  goverment  previous  to  1680  should  be  re- 
stored and  the  several  orders  regain  their  lawful 
privilegia ,”  remarked  Gustaf  Lewenhaupt. 

“ The  former  times  bear  witness  that  where  each 
order  maintained  the  rank  that  rightfully  belonged  to 
it,  the  kingdom  has  thrived  best,”  was  the  opinion  of 
Count  Brahe. 

“ Gentlemen  of  the  nobility,”  exclaimed  Benzelius, 
again  aroused,  “ you  talk  all  the  while  as  though  the 
good  old  time  was  only  driven  out  into  the  vestibule 
and  you  had  only  to  open  the  door  and  bid  him  most 
graciously  to  come  in  again.  You  forget  that  during  the 
reign  of  the  late  king,  many  changes  occurred  to  the 
great  advantage  of  the  kingdom,  and  which  the  peas- 


224 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


ant  class  would  not  be  pleased  to  have  stricken  out  of 
the  statutes.  You  wish  to  have  a regent  under  bands 
and  stays, — that  is,  of  course,  in  the  sorrowful  casus  that 
anything  should  happen  to  our  reigning  king,  whom 
may  God  keep  in  life  and  health.  But  I tell  you  that 
we  peasants  will  have  a word  in  this  law,  if  there  is  to 
be  one,  and  that  we  do  not  intend  to  allow  ourselves  to 
be  plucked  like  grouse  by  a handful  of  petty  kings, 
whether  they  are  called  the  government  council  or  the 
king’s  high  council,  or  are  nonplussed  counts  or  starved 
barons.” 

An  indescribable  tumult  arose  at  these  daring  words 
— all  shouting  promiscuously;  and  while  the  most  em- 
bittered cried  out  that  the  speaker  ought  to  be  turned 
out  of  doors,  the  witty  Wulfvenstjerna  was  heard  to 
say  half  aloud  to  the  Ribbings:  “ Hang  him  or  make 
a noble  of  him;  in  either  case  he  will  hold  his  tongue 
like  a good  child.” 

Molin  sought  in  vain  to  restore  harmony,  reminding 
them  that  they  had  not  met  to  quarrel  over  the  interests 
of  the  several  orders,  but  to  consult  for  the  preser- 
vation of  the  whole  kingdom.  Times  of  common  peril 
divided  opinions  as  often  as  they  united  them,  and  the 
scourge  of  discord  was  not  the  least  of  the  misfor- 
tunes which  now,  all  at  once,  raged  over  the  North. 

It  was  apparent  that  all  present — and  among  them 
were  many  who  seriously  wished  for  the  welfare  of  the 
kingdom — were  agreed  that  a change  was  necessary  ; 
but  as  soon  as  the  question  was  asked,  in  what  shall 
the  change  consist,  to  what  end  shall  it  be  particularly 
directed  ? opinions  were  immediately  divided  into  a 
multitude  of  conflicting  fragments. 

Benzelius  soon  had  around  him  a not  insignificant 
party,  which  seemed  fully  determined,  be  it  here  or  at 
the  sessions  of  the  orders,  to  oppose  the  precedence- of 
the  nobility,  and  the  fear  of  displeasing  this  party  pre- 
vented an  outbreak  of  wrath  on  the  part  of  the  noble 
gentlemen.  Schiitz  sat  down  to  write  the  protocol,  and 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME . 


225 


it  was  formally  determined  to  push  through  the  ap- 
pointment of  the  Princess  Ulrika  Eleonora  as  regentess 
during  the  king’s  absence. 

“And  with  the  advice  of  the  deputies  of  the  orders,’' 
added  Stjerneld,  who  was  at  once  zealously  supported 
by  Benzetius  and  his  friends. 

“What  now!”  exclaimed  Axel  Lewenhaupt. 
“ Will  you  give  us  a Long  Parliament  and  a Crom- 
well ?” 

“ I know  of  no  person  better  adapted  to  the  role  of 
Cromwell  than  Leijonmark,”  whispered  Wulfvenstjerna 
to  Schiitz. 

“ Must  go  before  the  deputies,”  assented  the  crafty 
Conrad  Ribbing.  “ It  is  in  any  event  a bone  for  the 
lap-dogs  of  the  opposition,  and  will  sound  well  in  the 
appropriation  bills.” 

“ Gentlemen,”  said  Gustaf  Lewenhaupt,  with  an 
equivocal  smile.  “ I very  much  fear  that  we  are  reck- 
oning without  our  host.  If  I do  not  mistake  myself, 
here  comes  a man  who  can  probably  solve  our  doubts 
regarding  it.” 

Just  then  a man  somewhat  over  thirty  years  of  age, 
of  slender  form  and  pale  but  intellectual  countenance, 
entered.  His  unusually  careful  attire,  with  the  inevit- 
able appurtenance  of  a long  peruke,  and  the  wide 
shapeless  sleeves  of  his  embroidered  coat,  together 
with  his  easy  and  rather  haughty  bearing,  led  one  at 
once  to  suppose  that  he  was  a member  of  the  highest 
order  of  the  nobility,  cultured  in  the  saloons  of  foreign 
courts,  while  the  greater  part  of  the  younger  noblemen 
of  the  time  showed  traces  of  the  rougher  education  of 
the  battle-field. 

“ Who  is  the  lofty  gentleman  ? ” asked  one  of  the 
new  legislators  of  his  neighbor  Schiitz. 

“ He  is  a man,”  answered  Schiitz,  “ of  whom  one 
does  not  know  which  is  more  dangerous,  to  have  him 
for  a friend  or  an  enemy,  to  meet  him  socially  or 
officially  ; a man  of  great  capacite  and  still  greater 
P 


226 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


ambition  ; a man  who  sees  through  everybody  but  is 
seen  through  by  few  or  none  ; a man  who  by  birth  and 
inclination  belongs  to  the  higher  nobility,  but  knows 
how  to  make  himself  necessary  to  all  parties  without 
any  one  being  able  to  claim  him  ; allied  to  all,  intimate 
with  none  ; slighting  preferment  and  yet  employed  in 
the  most  important  affairs ; scarcely  more  than  a 
youth,  and  yet  already  gray  in  all  the  dissimulations  of 
diplomacy  ; in  a word,  a worthy  pupil  of  his  master  and 
patron,  Count  Arvid  Horn, — the  secretary  of  the  lega- 
tion, Count  Torsten  Bertelskold.” 

It  was  not  long  before  a group  of  politicians  of 
various  opinions  gathered  around  the  new-comer,  who, 
with  the  most  unembarrassed  frankness,  talked  of  what 
he  knew  or  what  he  believed  he  knew.  “ The  Holstein 
party, ” he  said,  “had  set  everything  in  motion;  the 
royalists  were  bent  on  mingling  in  the  affair  ; the  prin- 
cess herself  had  not  decided  ; Count  Horn  entertained 
for  her,  as  well  as  for  the  gentlemen  here,  the  highest 
consideration,  and  did  not  doubt  that  the  matter  would 
end  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  all  ... 

“ Count  Horn  is  then  for  the  project  ? ” exclaimed 
the  Lewenhaupts.  “ Now  victory  is  complete.” 

“ Count  Horn,”  answered  Bertelskold,  “ has  not 
expressed  any  opinion  concerning  the  gentlemen’s 
dessein , but  I think  I know  that,  in  his  position  of  royal 
counsellor,  and  surrounded  by  rapporteurs , he  will 
to-morrow,  at  the  sitting  of  the  council  and  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  princess,  give  six  or  seven  of  the  gentlemen 
a solemn  reprimand.” 

“What ! ” again  cried  the  Lewenhaupts  and  others, 
“ he  is  then  against  the  project ! He  will  then  blame 
us  ! disarm  us  ! ruin  us  ! ” 

“ I am  convinced  that  the  count  entertains  both  for 
the  gentlemen  and  for  the  affair  the  greatest  egardy 
and  that  her  royal  highness  will  not  have  any  reason  to 
be  dissatisfied  with  the  count.” 

“ But  is  he  then  for  us,  or  against  us  ? ” 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


227 


“ All  that  I can  say  is  that  without  doubt  the  count 
will  follow  the  line  of  duty.” 

“ Hang  the  man — one  never  knows  on  which  side 
of  the  fence  he  is  ! ” 'exclaimed  the  party  men,  and  the 
club  separated  in  uncertainty  and  confusion. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  DIPLOMATS’  DECLARATION  OF  WAR. 

rTTHE  evening  after  the  meeting  of  the  club,  Count 
I Torsten  Bertelskold  passed  through  the  lofty 
carved  oak  doors  into  General  Count  Liewen’s  house. 
The  general  was  absent  on  an  embassy  to  the  king  in 
Turkey,  to  set  forth,  on  behalf  of  the  council,  the 
actual  condition  of  the  kingdom,  and  to  induce  the 
king  to  return  home  ; but  Bertelskold,  without  being 
previously  announced,  continued  his  way  through  the 
empty  rooms  to  the  countess’s  chamber.  With  polite- 
ness— almost  with  cordiality — he  kissed  her  hand  and 
exchanged  a few  words  concerning  her  health. 

The  countess  was  a woman  about  thirty  years  old, 
rather  short  than  tall,  clad  in  black,  with  an  exterior 
not  particularly  beautiful,  but  full  of  goodness  and 
grace.  Far  from  being  displeased  with  a familiarity 
which  could  not  be  misinterpreted,  she  seemed  moved 
by  it ; a moist  lustre  shone  in  her  beautiful  eyes,  and 
she  answered  Bertelskold’s  greeting  with  even  greater 
warmth  than  his  own. 

Those  among  us  who  remember  Majniemi  castle 
and  the  masquerade  ball  at  Drottningholm,  would 
perhaps  still  recognize  in  the  countess  the  lovely  Ebba 
Bertelskold  of  former  times,  then  maid  of  honor  and 
now  lady  of  honor  to  her  royal  highness  the  Princess 


228 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Ulrika  Eleanora.  For  long  years  had  a sorrowful  mem- 
ory caused  her  to  refuse  all  offers  ; but  Count  Torsten, 
a few  years  since,  had  persuaded  her  to  give  her  hand 
to  a widower  already  growing  gray, — now  her  husband. 
But  the  black  mourning  garments  she  only  laid  aside 
when  etiquette  positively  demanded  it. 

“ I hope  I do  not  discommode  you  ? ” said  Count 
Torsten,  as  he  sat  down  by  his  sister’s  side. 

“ A guest  who  comes  so  rarely  could  not  do  that, 
even  if  he  were  less  welcome  than  you  are,”  replied  the 
countess. 

“ I believe  it  is  several  weeks  since  I had  the  pleas- 
ure of  meeting  ma  soeur.  Business  . . . .” 

“ It  is  three  months.  Let  that  be  forgotten 
now  . . . .” 

“ As  well  as  the  little  brouillerie  at  our  last  rencontre. 
You  defended  your  position  like — a Carolin.  Apropos , 
have  your  heard  the  news  of  the  day?” 

“No.  But  it  must  be  something  singular  ; I know 
you  never  come  without  a reason.  Can  I serve  you  in 
something  different  from  your  last propos , mon  ami?” 

“ Ebba,  you  would  be  a wise  woman  if  you  only 
knew  how  to  profit  by  your  position.  But  let  us  not 
wrangle  about  that.  Weighter  matters  have  prece- 
dence. The  parties  are  at  open  war  with  each  other  ; 
the  crown  is  considered  as  good  as  vacant.  Enfin , 
what  can  one  do  with  a king  thousands  of  miles  away, 
whom  some  think  demented,  others  dead,  and  others  a 
prisoner?  Just  imagine, — Gortz  and  the  Holsteiners 
have  won  a victory  to-day  ; yes,  of  course  in  the  name 
of  loyalty  and  for  its  good.  The  partisans  of  the 
princess,  joined  with  a large  number  of  people  of  sus- 
pected intentions,  the  honest  Creutz  at  their  head,  have 
to-day  received  an  appropriate  avis  au  lecteur  before 
the  sitting  council.  The  gentlemen  were  quite  artistically 
gored  by  our  Finnish  unicorn;*  Crusbjorn,  for  exam- 
ple, had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  that  he  was  as  poor  a 


*Count  Arvid  Horn. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A HA  ME. 


229 


statesman  as  he  is  a good  soldier.  He  who  used  the 
most  badinage  was  Axel  Lewenhaupt.  Riksdag  is 
graciously  adjourned  ; the  princess  insisted  that  it 
should  take  place  with  douceur.  In  the  meantime  the 
nobles  have  voted  for  the  princess  as  regentess.  Imag- 
ine how.  They  had  a protocol  with  two  columns — one 
for  those  who  would  immediately  assist  her  royal  high- 
ness to  the  illustrious  fauteille  j the  other  for  those 
who  graciously  wished  to  persuade  her  royal  highness 
to  have  patience  until  some  janizary  should  help  the 
kingdom  out  of  its  embarrassment.” 

“ Perfidie  ! Proceed.” 

“ There  were  two  hundred  and  thirty-five  noblemen 
present.  In  the  first  column  were  written  one  hundred 
and  thirty-seven  names,  and  in  the  other  none.  You 
know  Cederhjelm  ? ” 

“ The  wittiest  man  and  the  slyest  rascal  in  Stock- 
holm— next  to  my  honorable  brother.” 

“ Thank  you  humbly.  Well,  Cederhjelm  made 
believe  that  he  was  in  a great  hurry,  scrawled  some- 
thing in  the  first  column,  and  quickly  went  his  way 
tout  eperdu.  When  his  crow-feet  were  deciphered  they 
were  found  to  run  thus  : ‘ To  invite  her  highness  I 

deny  not  to  be  advantageous  to  her  and  to  us.  Carl  Gustaf 
Cederhjelm  l ” 

“ So  he  was  against  the  regency  ? ’ ” 

“ Or  for  it  ; just  as  one  takes  it.  It  depends  upon 
a little  punctuation  mark  before  or  after  the  ‘ not/  ” 

“ Exactly  in  accordance  with  his  taste.  I am  sur- 
prised that  you  did  not — ” 

“ I did  not  write  in  either  column.  Impossible;  the 
unicorn  considers  it  most  discreet  not  to  pronounce  his 
opinion,  and  his  politics  are  for  the  present  mine.  But 
as  the  matter  stands,  it  is  my  opinion  that  sooner  or 
later  the  princess  will  gain  the  preponderance,  and  then 
she  would  never  forgive  our  having  worked  against  her. 
Me  voila.  You  will  place  me  under  great  obligation  if 
you  let  the  princess  know  that  I am  one  amongst  her 


230 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


most  devoted  followers,  and  that  I am  working  sans 
bruit  in  private  for  her  advantage.” 

“ So  I guessed  right;  you  found  I could  be  of  use 
to  you,  and  so  you  remembered  that  you  had  a sister. 
Torsten,  I have  very  little  claim  upon  your  affection, 
but  you  know  what  I think  of  your  political  career. 
Why  this  deceit,  which  flatters  and  betrays  all  parties  ? 
Yesterday  you  were  a royalist,  to-day  a Hessian,  to- 
morrow a Holsteiner,  the  day  after  a little  of  each  or 
none  of  either.  Choose  your  party,  mon  frere ; you 
have  at  least  three  to  choose  from,  and  whichever  one 
you  decide  upon,  lay  your  talents,  a significant  weight, 
in  the  scale.  But  permit  me  to  tell  you:  this  eye-ser- 
vice gains  you  enemies  in  all  parties,  friends  in  none. 
Torsten,  your  behavior  is  unworthy  of  your  name  and 
your  rank,  and  I do  not  intend  to  lend  myself  as  a tool 
for  your  purposes.” 

“Another  lecture.  Admire  a patience,  my  countess, 
that  does  not  suffer  itself  to  be  frightened  by  the  severe 
admonition  with  which  you  have  just  honored  me,  when 
1 was  bold  enough  to  propose  a political  alliance  to  find 
out  the  princess’s  demarche.  Eh  bien , I will  not  speak 
of  that  . . . .” 

“ It  is  more  than  unwise,  mon  ami , it  is  ignoble. 
Our  father  would  never  have  acted  so.” 

Count  Torsten  reddened.  Accustomed  as  he  was 
to  entertain  an  exalted  opinion  of  his  own  political 
genius  — an  opinion  which  was  also  entertained  by 
others, — this  reprimand  from  a woman  so  little  expe- 
rienced in  the  many  intrigues  of  the  day,  necessarily 
seemed  to  him  in  a high  degree  unjust.  But  he  con- 
trolled himself. 

“ Mon  coeur  is  right,”  said  he.  “ To  make  such  a 
system  the  rule  of  one’s  life,  would  be  neither  wise  nor 
noble.  But  have  you  considered  in  what  a time  we 
live  ? We  all  stand  on  the  brink  of  three  abysses,  one 
of  which  will  to-day  or  to-morrow  swallow  all  who  lean 
to  the  opposite  side.  Either  the  king,  the  princess  or 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


231 


the  duke  of  Holstein  will  conquer;  then  woe  to  their 
enemies!  And  if  only  individuals  were  concerned,  but 
no,  it  concerns  systems.  You  mentioned  our  father. 
Well,  I will  repeat  to  you  what  he  told  me  at  the  close 
of  his  life.  ‘ It  is  upon  you,  Torsten,  that  I build,’  said 
he.  ‘ Remember  that  if  I leave  you  no  other  inheri- 
tance, I leave  you  an  idea,  and  this  idea  is  the  main- 
tenance of  a middle  power  between  the  monarchy  and 
the  sway  of  the  multitude,  between  the  absolute  right 
of  the  king,  which  denies  the  right  of  all  others,  and 
the  unbridled  power  of  the  many  which  divides  every- 
thing into  parties.  Promise  me,  Torsten,  that  you  will 
always  strive  for  the  vocation  of  the  nobility  as  media- 
tors between  the  king  and  the  people.’  ” 

“ Stand  fast  by  that  and  make  no  terms  with  the 
other  parties.” 

“No,  there  you  are  wrong.  I have  my  party;  it  is 
Count  Horn’s,  the  only  one  that  befits  our  birth.  It  is 
I who  shall  one  day  lift  up  this  party;  and  shall  I now, 
while  everything  totters,  throw  myself  under  the  rolling 
chariot  wheels  of  the  times  and  allow  myself  to  be 
crushed  by  the  first  royal  princely  or  ducal  lackey  that 
crosses  my  path  ? Oh,  if  I only  had  my  ring,  my  ring, 
then  would  I laugh  at  all  these  reptiles,  instead  of 
now  . . . 

“ It  is  mere  superstition  concerning  the  king’s 
ring.” 

“ I know  it,  and  yet  it  imparts  a wonderful  power 
through  the  simple  hope  of  succeeding  in  everything. 
But,  enfin , will  you  proteger  my  interest  with  the 
princess  ? ” 

“As  a sister,  yes.  As  a political  tool,  no.” 

“ You  compel  me  then  to  cast  myself  into  the  arms 
of  the  Holstein  party  and  Gortz  ? ” 

“As  long  as  Charles  XII  lives,  there  is  but  one 
party  for  loyal  subjects.  Be  the  king’s  man,  Torsten  ; 
use  your  talent  to  unmask  his  enemies,  strengthen  his 
power  and  serve  . . . 


232 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“ The  monarchy  ? Never  ! It  is  to  this,  Ebba,  your 
generosity  leads.  I should  be  serving  the  saber,  that 
savage  force  that  hews  down  all  our  rights — that  sol- 
diery of  higher  and  lower  grade  that  treats  free-born 
nobles  like  janizaries;  a king  whose  kingdom  knows 
his  existence  only  by  the  most  unheard  of  exactions; 
failing  greatness,  shadows  of  past  victories  which  were 
swallowed  up  in  defeat;  matchless  power  which  has 
nothing  left  but  its  own  selfish  ambition  and  unlimited 
pretensions  ! I,  who  bear  within  me  a new  era,  an  era 
of  freedom  and  justice  which  will  not  be  conquered  by 
force  nor  annoyed  by  weakness,  shall  I throw  away  my 
ability  and  my  future  for  a lost  cause  which  may  over- 
whelm us  to-day,  but  which  to-morrow  will  be  only  a 
story  from  the  age  of  fables?  No — I leave  this  role  to 
our  wandering  knight  of  a thousand  adventures,  mon 
cher  Gustave,  who  at  this  moment  has  the  best  of  oppor- 
tunities for  rebuilding  in  Finland  the  Carolinian  wind- 
mills . . . 

“ Torsten,  do  not  revile  Gosta  ! He  is  an  honorable 
knight,  without  duplicity,  as  well  as  without  fear,  faith- 
ful unto  death  to  the  king  and  the  cause  whose  banner 
he  has  sworn  . . . 

“ Without  doubt.  Apropos  of  our  Gosta,  they  say 
that  Eva  Falkenberg  has  lately  become  a widow  by  old 
Rhenfelt’s  death.  You  promised  me  just  now  your  sis- 
terly protection.  I forgive  you,  mon  coeur , your  re- 
proaches, and  hope  you  will  give  me  your  secours  in  case 
it  should  suit  me  to  contend  for  the  amiable  widow’s 
hand.” 

“Another  affair  ! A combination  ! Great  politi- 
cians, how  little  ye  understand  the  heart  of  woman  ! ” 

“A  Hons.  As  you  please.  You  know,  however,  that 
I adored  Eva  Falkenberg  long  before  her  marriage. 
That  we  were  continually  at  war  with  each  other  ought 
to  be  an  evidence  to  your  quick  wit  that  I had  not  the 
misfortune  to  be  entirely  indifferent  to  my  beautiful 
antagonist.  I know  what  you  will  say:  a childish 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME . 


233 


affection,  like  your  own.  Illusions,  that  fade  at  twenty 
and  disappear  at  thirty!  Gosta  has  long  ago  forgotten 
her,  as  she  has  forgotten  him;  the  match  is  suitable,  and 
I see  no  reason  . . . .” 

“ Reckoners  like  you,  mon  ami,  usually  sum  up  a 
host  of  small  figures  in  the  human  heart  and  forget  the 
larger  ones.  You  ought  to  know  Eva  Falkenberg;  she 
is  an  independent  character,  much  stronger  than  I She 
would  scorn  your  proposal  . . . .” 

“ Why,  s’i l votes  plait  ? ” 

“ Because  she  still  loves  Gosta,  and  she  never  would 
deceive  you,  mon  cher.  I can  therefore  do  nothing  for 
you.” 

“ So  much  greater  reason  for  me  to  conquer  her. 
My  dear  countess,  I have  now  conversed  with  you  like 
a brother,  but  you  have  not  been  pleased  to  answer  me 
as  a sister.  I have  confessed  to  you  some  of  my  plans, 
my  hopes  ; still  you  do  not  comprehend  me.  You  for- 
get that  I too  have  no  small  share  of  pride  by  inheri- 
tance. We  might  end  here.  But  I apprise  you  further, 
that  hereafter  there  is  an  open  feud  between  us.  I shall 
cast  down  your  princess,  if  I find  it  useful  for  my  plan  ; 
I shall  set  her  on  the  throne  if  I find  it  more  useful. 
Regarding  Madame  Rhenfelt,  either  by  or  against  her 
wish,  either  with  or  without  the  consent  of  our  Finnish 
Don  Quixote,  she  will  within  a year  or  two  be  the 
Countess  Bertelskold.  Your  humble  servant,  my 
countess  ! ” 

“ Torsten  ! ” cried  the  countess,  but  he  had  already 
disappeared.  Her  beautiful  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
“Why,”  she  said  to  herself,  “Should  such  great  faculties 
be  clouded  by  such  great  selfishness  ? O men,  men, 
who  always  make  yourselves  the  end,  and  everything 
else  the  means — how  often  you  forget  that  outside  of 
you  there  are  hearts  that  suffer  and  a God  who 
governs  ! ” 


10* 


234 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  FUGITIVES. 

SWEDEN’S  greatest  living  statesman,  the  Finnish, 
Count  Arvid  Bernhard  Horn,  was  in  his  private 
room  working  with  the  secretary  of  the  legation, 
Count  Torsten  Bertelskold,  upon  the  composition  of  a 
circular  to  the  Swedish  ministers  at  foreign  courts. 
Count  Horn  was,  in  fact,  a stately  representative  of  the 
old  aristocracy,  tall  in  stature,  with  an  unusually 
upright  and  regular  profile,  his  noble  expression  some- 
what increased  by  the  peruke  which  was  combed 
upwards,  and  which  fell  in  bushy  locks  over  his  neck 
and  throat ; — an  aquiline  nose,  prominent  mouth,  with  a 
rather  thick  underlip  and  a marked  touch  of  determi- 
nation of  character,  a high  handsome  forehead,  and  a 
pair  of  large,  piercing,  light-blue  eyes.  His  toilet  was 
made,  even  for  the  work  room,  with  the  greatest  care, 
and  was  of  the  choicest  elegance  ; on  his  embroidered 
blue  dressing-gown  and  black  small-clothes  there  was 
not  seen  the  least  speck  or  wrinkle  ; the  fine  silk 
stockings  covered  faultless  calves,  and  the  feet,  for  the 
time  being  encased  in  a pair  of  velvet  slippers,  had  no 
occasion  to  blush  for  their  chaussure.  The  room  itself 
was  furnished  with  exquisite  elegance  in  the  prevailing 
French  style,  and,  notwithstanding  the  poverty  of  the 
time,  might  have  served  without  fear  of  comparison,  as 
the  cabinet  of  one  of  the  ministers  of  Louis  XIV  at 
Versailles. 

The  count  rose  and  approached  Bertelskold,  still 
limping  from  the  wound  received  in  his  knee  thirteen 
years  before,  at  the  crossing  of  the  Diina.  “ Is  it 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


235 


ready  ? ” he  asked,  with  the  decisive  yet  polite  tone  of 
a chief  accustomed  to  routine. 

Bertelskold  reached  him  the  draft,  which  he  read 
through  attentively.  “You  will  please  to  observe, 
with  the  most  scrupulous  attention,  such  proceedings 
as  will  probably  be  taken  to  regulate  the  succession  in 
Sweden,  while  his  majesty,  dear  to  all  his  faithful  sub- 
jects, still  lives,  and  is  in  perfect  vigor.  You  should 
not  neglect  with  all  diligence  to  avert  measures  which 
might  be  in  the  highest  degree  injurious  and  prejudicial 
to  his  majesty  and  the  government,  so  that  they  may 
be  deprived  of  even  the  semblance  of  success  at  the 
court  to  which  you  are  accredited.  It  has  come  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  royal  senate  that  Baron  Gortz  will 
perhaps  be  employed  to  further  such  plans  at  the 
French  court.  The  senate  has,  through  the  royal 
board  of  chancellors,  ordered  Envoy  Cronstrom  to 
attack  the  said  Gortz’s  credit ; besides,  it  should  not 
escape  your  attention  that  over  and  above  the  Danish 
administration,  and  even  the  Holland  minister,  he  is 
the  one  who,  more  than  all  other  powers,  has  done 
most  to  chagrin  his  majesty  and  compromise  the  gov- 
ernment,” etc. 

“ That  is  good,”  continued  the  count,  after  he  had 
finished  the  reading.  “ I see  that  the  secretary  of 
legation  has  caught  my  meaning,  and  it  pleases  me  to 
have  a man  that  I can  depend  on.  We  will  preserve 
his  majesty’s  crown  as  long  as  possible.” 

“ As  long  as  possible  ? ” repeated  Bertelskold,  with 
a slight,  almost  impreceptible  smile. 

“This  Gortz  may  become  dangerous,”  resumed  the 
count,  without  appearing  to  notice  any  double  meaning 
in  Bertelskold’s  reply.  “ He  is  in  diplomacy  what 
Charles  XII  is  on  the  battle-field  ; a man  who  always 
plays  va  la  banque.  If  fate  should  ever  bring  together 
these  two  characters,  so  unlike  and  yet  so  like,  such 
men  as  you  and  I would  be  superfluous.” 


236 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  X/L 


“ Luck  at  play  is  inconstant,”  answered  the  secre- 
tary, in  the  same  manner  as  before. 

“You  maybe  right.  Let  us  now  look  out  for  a 
means  of  rescue  in  the  general  shipwreck  which  threat- 
ens us.  What  news  ? ” 

“Your  Excellence  knows  perhaps  of  the  rumor 
which  was  spread  this  morning  by  fugitives  from  Fin- 
land ? ” 

“ Ever  since  the  Finnish  coast-roads  have  been 
blocked  up  by  the  enemy  the  government  has  received 
no  mail  from  Northern  Finland.” 

“They  say ^t hat  Armfelt  has  been  totally  defeated 
somewhere  in  Osterbotten,  and  that  his  whole  army  is 
destroyed.” 

Count  Horn  turned  very  pale,  but  almost  instantly 
controlled  himself  and  answered  : “ I hope  the  rumor 

is  untrue.  According  to  the  latest  advices  Armfelt 
had  fortified  himself  in  Osterbotten,  and  Golitzin  was 
still  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bjorneborg.  But  we  must 
examine  the  fugitives.  I remember  that  your  brother 
joined  Armfelt  with  a band  of  partisans.  You  have  no 
advices  from  him?” 

“ My  brother  has  entirely  forgotten  the  art  of  writ- 
ing. I only  know  that  he  so  enraged  the  enemy  by  a 
foolhardy  defense,  that  they  entirely  demolished  our 
ancestral  castle  of  Majniemi  in  the  vicinity  of  Abo.” 

“ The  secretary  judges  rather  harshly  the  school  in 
which  Sweden’s  most  glorious  laurels  have  been  pro- 
duced,” remarked  Horn,  with  a shrug. 

“ I entertain  the  highest  respect  for  a school  which 
reckons  your  Excellence  among  its  pupils,”  replied 
Bertelskold,  “ but  I appeal  to  your  Excellence’s  judg- 
ment of  games.  My  brother  has  put  everything  on  a 
single  card  and — lost.” 

“Your  brother  is  a brave  man  ; I cannot  reproach 
him  with  his  misfortune.  But  have  the  kindness  to  see 
what  all  that  noise  is,  out  in  the  street.” 

In  fact,  an  uncommon  din  outside  had  attracted 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


237 


the  count’s  attention  for  some  time.  When  Bertelskold 
went  out  he  found  a great  crowd  of  people,  shrieking 
and  hooting,  about  to  enter  upon  a struggle  with  the 
police,  who,  supported  by  a military  patrol  of  twenty 
men,  seemed  to  hesitate  whether  they  should  resort  to 
violent  means.  Stockholm  had  for  some  time  been  so 
flooded  with  helpless  fugitives  from  Esthonia,  Livonia, 
and  Finland,  that  at  last  it  was  hard  to  know  how  to 
subsist  them.  The  inhabitants,  who  themselves  suffered 
so  severely  from  the  hard  times,  had,  with  true  Swedish 
hospitality,  sought  as  long  as  possible  to  help  these 
destitute  people ; but  when  new  flocks  continually 
streamed  in,  all  their  resources  were  by  degrees 
exhausted  and  their  former  good-will  very  naturally 
turned  to  impatience  and  murmuring.  When,  there- 
fore, a troop  of  more  than  a hundred  fugitives,  frozen 
and  starved,  came  over  on  the  ice,  the  most  of  them 
from  Aland,  dissatisfaction  rose  to  its  hight,  and  the 
unfortunates  were  driven  away  whenever  they  showed 
themselves  to  ask  for  shelter.  The  police  endeavored 
to  persuade  them  to  leave  the  city  and  seek  asylum  in 
the  country,  but  they,  quite  tired  out  with  the  difficult 
journey  over  the  sea,  refused  to  go  away,  and  had 
now  to  be  driven  by  force.  This  intervention  again 
awakened  the  wearied  sympathy  of  the  citizens  of 
Stockholm  in  behalf  of  the  fugitives  ; the  crowd  took 
their  part,  and,  with  loud  cries,  exclaimed  that  the  gov- 
ernment ought  to  provide  for  their  maintenance.  A 
revolt  was  about  to  burst  forth,  so  much  the  more 
dangerous  because  it  assumed  a loyal  character  and 
turned  against  the  councillor  as  the  highest  governing 
power  during  the  absence  of  the  king.  They  were  not 
ignorant  of  the  extravagant  luxury  with  which  the 
royal  councillor,  Count  Horn,  surrounded  himself,  both 
by  habit  and  inclination,  and  they  did  not  know,  or 
had  forgotten,  that  the  noble  count,  as  hospitable  as  he 
was  rich,  had  made  more  private  sacrifices  than  any 


238 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII . 


other  man,  both  for  the  defense  of  the  kingdom  and 
for  the  support  of  his  suffering  countrymen. 

Both  the  fugitives  and  the  crowd,  therefore,  the 
armed  force  not  venturing  to  hinder  them,  marched 
to  Count  Horn’s  house,  and  by  degrees  filled  up  and 
closely  packed  the  entire  street.  The  throng  was 
increased  by  many  sleighs  which  the  fugitive  Finns 
had  brought  with  them,  some  drawn  by  horses  and 
some  by  hand,  filled  with  infirm  old  men,  weeping 
mothers,  crying  children,  and  all  sorts  of  household 
goods  and  utensils  which  they  had  not  wished  to  leave 
as  booty  to  the  enemy.  All  this  dismal  crowd  now  set 
up  a mighty  cry  in  which  were  mingled  exclamations 
of  a more  dangerous  import. 

“ Bread,  bread  ! We  are  starving  ! ” 

“ House-room  and  warmth  ! We  are  freezing  to 
death  ! ” 

“Away  with  the  police  ! ” 

“ Have  we  house-room  for  all  the  beggars  in  the 
world  ? ” 

“ That  is  the  affair  of  the  government.” 

“ They  must  look  out  for  that  who  are  the  cause  of 
all  the  misery.” 

“And  who  prevent  the  king  from  making  peace.” 

“ So  that  they  can  reign  the  longer.” 

“ It  is  not  the  king’s  fault  ! ” 

“ No,  no,  such  a king  is  not  found.” 

“ Live  the  king  ! ” 

“ He  lives  like  the  simplest  soldier.” 

“ It  is  not  he  who  burdens  us  with  taxes.” 

“ No,  no,  it  is  the  lords.” 

“ They  gormandize  on  our  last  farthing.” 

“They  plunder  and  impoverish  us.” 

“ That  they  may  live  in  pomp  and  luxury.” 

“ Therefore  they  prevent  the  king  from  coming 
back  ; he  would  soon  drive  them  away  from  the  council 
table.” 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME . 


239 


“And  incited  the  Russian  to  attack  us,  that  they 
might  increase  the  war  taxes.” 

“They  have  taken  bribes  of  Denmark.” 

“And  to  disable  us  they  take  all  our  young  men  and 
send  them  to  be  consumed  by  the  enemy.” 

“ All  these  people  freeze  and  starve,  while  the  rich 
count  sits  there  in  his  velvet  gown  and  fattens  himself 
with  roasts  and  Spanish  wines.” 

“ Down  with  the  councillors  ! Down  with  Horn  ! ” 

“ Peace  and  bread  ! Down  with  all  traitors  ! ” 

“ Live  the  king  ! Hurrah  ! ” 

And  now  the  stones  began  to  rattle  against  the 
count’s  windows  ; but  yet  only  a single  one  was  cracked 
in  the  corner. 

Bertelskold  comprehended  the  danger  of  the  situa- 
tion in  a hasty  glance,  not  unworthy  of  his  great  mas- 
ter. His  first  order  to  the  servants  was  to  bar  the  doors 
and  close  the  blinds  of  the  lower  story,  the  next  to  arm 
themselves  with  whatever  was  most  convenient.  Wholly 
unobserved,  he  had  several  old  blunderbusses  loaded  in 
the  yard.  But  that  ill-fated  cry:  Massacrez  la  canaille  ! 
which  has  ruined  so  much  greatness  both  before  and 
since  that  day,  did  not  escape  the  proud  youth’s  lips. 
He  remembered  the  fate  of  his  father  at  the  defense  of 
Majniemi,  and,  besides,  it  was  another  who  had  the 
command  here.  He  reported  the  matter  in  few  words 
to  Count  Horn. 

“ Do  what  you  will,”  said  the  count,  quite  calmly, 
and  scarcely  lifting  his  pen  from  the  paper.  His  work- 
ing room  fronted  the  court. 

“But  it  concerns  your  Excellence’s  person.” 

“ Do  you  intend  to  complete  your  draft  ? ” 

“ But  the  rabble  are  going  to  extremes  ; discontent 
is  outspoken;  a revolt  is  in  progress;  the  authority  of 
the  council  is  at  stake ; and  if  the  multitude  is  not  ap- 
peased, the  princess  will  be  proclaimed  regentess  before 
night.” 


240 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Count  Horn  now  laid  his  pen  aside,  looked  at  Ber- 
telskold without  changing  his  countenance,  and  said 
with  an  air  of  perfect  unconcern  : 

“Well,  yes,  tranquillize  the  crowd,  if  you  please;  but 
let  the  men  in  the  court  draw  the  charges  out  of  those 
blunderbusses ; I do  not  like  to  have  boys  play  with 
powder.” 

“ I shall  make  use  of  your  Excellence’s  authority,” 
answered  Bertelskold,  inwardly  irritated  at  being 
obliged  to  stand  there  like  a school-boy  before  his  mas- 
ter. Within  a few  minutes  he  appeared  at  a window  in 
the  second  story.  It  was  high  time;  the  rain  of  stones 
increased  ; at  least  half  a dozen  panes  were  already 
broken,  and  for  every  crashing  pane  the  crowd  hurrahed. 
“Let  us  be  gored  by  the  Finnish  horned  cattle!” 
shouted  some  wag  in  the  crowd,  and  this  rude  witticism 
was  rewarded  with  new  hurrahs. 

The  sight  of  Bertelskold,  who  stood  there  to  all  ap- 
pearance cool  and  unconcerned  as  the  stones  that  hit 
the  wall  beside  him,  quieted  the  noise  for  a moment. 
They  were  curious  to  know  what  he  had  to  communi- 
cate. 

“ My  friends  ! ” said  he,  not  displeased  to  let  the 
aristocrat  within  pay  for  his  pre-eminence;  “ his 
Excellence,  Count  Horn,  considers  himself,  a Finlander 
by  birth,  bound  to  sustain  at  his  own  expense  the  newly 
arrived  Finnish  fugitives,  and  offers  them  free  shelter 
and  fare  at  Fagelvik,  Stjerneberg,  or  Hvitvik,  as  they 
may  prefer.” 

The  fugitives  burst  out  in  loud  exclamations  of 

joy. 

“And  in  order  that  none  of  them  may  suffer  on  the 
way,  his  Excellence  will  distribute,  as  traveling  ex- 
penses, ten  dollars  to  each  family,  and  five  dollars  to 
each  unmarried  or  childless  person  among  the  fugi- 
tives.” 

“ Hurrah  ! Long  live  Count  Horn  ! ” shouted  the 
Finns. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


241 


But  the  brawl  began  again  among  the  citizens.  The 
dangerous  cry  : “ We  will  have  the  king  back  again!” 

was  heard  anew. 

Just  then  Bertelskold  saw  from  his  high  position  the 
gleam  of  the  muskets  of  a company  of  soldiers  which 
was  pressing  hastily  forward  at  the  end  of  the  street. 

“One  word  more  ! ” he  cried,  with  ironical  courtesy. 
“Friends  and  neighbors  of  Stockholm,  his  Excellence 
would  let  you  know  that  he  will  present  you — the  win- 
dow panes  you  have  had  the  kindness  to  repair  in  his 
house ! ” 

“ Down  with  Horn  ! Down  with  the  councillor  ! 
Live  King  Charles  ! ” shouted  the  crowd  again  in  new 
rage,  and  the  favoring  voices  of  the  fugitives  were  lost 
in  the  growing  tumult. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  CAROLIN. 

IN  order  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  a street  riot, 
which  under  other  circumstances  would  have  ended 
in  a little  noise  and  some  benefit  to  the  glazier,  one 
must  call  to  mind  that  the  council  had  just  adjourned 
the  Riksdag  and  sent  home  its  members  with  errands 
unaccomplished,  that  discontent  was  general,  the  situa- 
tion dubious,  the  most  miraculous  stories  afloat  con- 
cerning the  king,  all  parties  in  angry  feuds  and  the 
capital  nearly  stripped  of  military.  No  one  could 
prophesy  where  the  movement  would  end  if  perchance 
a spark  should  set  all  this  combustible  material  on 
fire. 

Meanwhile,  there  marched  forward  a reserve  com- 
pany of  the  Upland  regiment,  lately  recruited,  and 
mostly  young  men,  commanded  by  some  of  Mans  Sten- 
Q 11 


242 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII , 


bock’s  remaining  warriors  from  Helsingborg,  who  had 
survived  the  late  disaster  at  Tonningen.  The  company 
halted  at  the  nearest  street  corner,  and  the  commander 
ordered  : “ Order  arms  ! ” There  seemed  to  be  an  in- 
clination to  make  terms  with  the  crowd,  which  was  in- 
creasing every  instant.  All  eyes  were  turned  toward 
Count  Horn’s  house  ; they  expected  the  renowned 
councillor  would  show  himself.  But  he  came  not;  his 
proud  soul  scorned  to  treat  with  the  rebellious  rabble. 

The  street  was  now  completely  blocked,  and  a car- 
riage, the  luggage  on  which  seemed  to  belong  to  trav- 
elers from  the  country,  was  hindered  by  the  press  from 
moving  either  forward  or  back.  Some  vicious  boys 
gave  the  horses  a lash;  they  reared  and  backed  the  car- 
riage against  the  people.  Those  standing  nearest  gave 
way,  fell  upon  the  coachman  with  abusive  language  and 
pretended  to  be  about  to  cut  the  traces  and  overturn 
the  carriage.  A woman’s  voice  ordered  the  coachman 
to  hold  the  horses  still,  but  this  was  impossible  ; the 
noise  and  the  throng  made  the  horses  wild. 

At  that  instant  an  unusually  tall  and  broad- 
shouldered  man  made  his  way  through  the  crowd.  His 
military  bearing,  and  the  remains  of  a uniform,  half 
covered  by  a gray  peasant-jacket,  revealed  the  man’s 
occupation;  but  the  worn,  neglected  dress,  the  strange, 
excited,  almost  wild  expression  of  his  originally  noble 
and  handsome  face,  would  lead  one  rather  to  sus- 
pect that  he  was  a robber  lately  come  from  the  woods 
and  surprised  to  find  himself  in  the  midst  of  the  buzz 
of  a capital. 

The  stranger  seemed  to  have  noticed  the  danger  in 
which  the  carriage  was  placed,  and  with  giant  arms 
thrust  aside  the  people  about  him  as  a practiced 
swimmer  cleaves  the  water  with  his  hurried  stroke. 
He  soon  stood  beside  the  carriage,  opened  the  door, 
and  said  to  the  lady,  in  good  Swedish,  that  she  had 
better  alight;  adding,  that  she  might  be  calm,  as  he 
would  conduct  her  to  a place  of  safety. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A HA  ME. 


243 


“ I am  not  afraid/’  answered  the  lady,  who  was  un- 
commonly beautiful,  was  dressed  in  mourning,  and 
seemed  to  be  about  thirty  years  old;  “ but  to  remain 
here  is  as  impossible  as  it  is  to  drive  on.  Have  the 
kindness  to  take  me  to  Count  Horn’s  house,  just  op- 
posite.” 

The  stranger  did  not  answer  ; his  hand,  already 
stretched  out,  sank  down,  and  he  stood  some  seconds 
immovable.  Meanwhile  the  mass  of  people  stormed 
on,  and  the  crowd  became  so  dense  that  no  one  could 
stir  hand  or  foot  by  the  side  of  the  carriage. 

“ Well  ? ” said  the  lady  in  black,  impatiently.  “ Is  it 
you  who  are  afraid  ? ” 

“You  cannot  get  away  on  foot,”  answered  the 
stranger  hesitatingly. 

“ Then  have  the  kindness  to  carry  me.  You  look 
to  me  as  though  you  had  borne  heavier  burdens  and 
beaten  your  way  through  denser  walls.” 

Notwithstanding  the  Dalcarlian  hat  was  pressed 
down  over  his  brow,  and  his  cheeks  were  browned  by 
all  the  winds,  it  could  be  seen  that  he  blushed.  But 
there  was  no  time  to  lose.  He  lifted  his  beautiful  bur- 
den, light  as  a child,  on  his  left  arm,  and  with  his  right 
he  thrust  aside  the  crowd,  as  the  wind  bends  the  wav- 
ing harvest  field.  To  the  right  and  to  the  left  of  him 
fell,  cursing  and  shrieking,  one  after  another  who  did 
not  give  way  quick  enough.  At  last  he  approached  the 
door  of  the  house  designated.  There  he  set  down  his 
burden  and  placed  himself  in  a position  of  defense 
before  the  lady  in  black,  for  the  door  was  closed. 

Either  the  people  were  irritated  by  the  stranger’s 
somewhat  hard-handed  procedure,  or,  on  account  of 
his  position  at  the  door,  they  took  him  for  one  of  Count 
Horn’s  men;  at  all  events  it  was  not  long  before  they, 
seeking  an  object  on  which  to  wreak  their  indignation, 
turned  to  the  man  at  the  door.  The  first  insulting 
words  were  very  soon  followed  by  the  throwing  of 
stones  and  by  blows  with  sticks.  Yet  the  stranger 


244 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


seemed  entirely  careless  of  his  own  danger,  his  only 
plan  of  operations  being  to  shield  the  lady  in  black 
against  all  the  missiles  which  might  reach  her.  Two 
of  those  standing  nearest,  a journeyman  coppersmith 
and  a brewer’s  fat  servant,  mistook  this  for  fear,  and 
daringly  went  forward  with  the  expectation  of  seizing 
the  tall  man  by  the  collar,  throwing  him  to  the  ground 
and  cudgelling  him  for  their  pains.  But  this  mistake 
turned  out  badly.  The  stranger  seized  one  of  them  in 
each  hand,  lifted  them  up  at  arm’s  length,  and  hung 
them  so  violently  to  the  ground  that  all  their  joints 
cracked,  and  the  blood  spurted  out  of  the  nose  and 
mouth  of  both  the  champions. 

Such  a powerful  grasp,  such  unheard-of  strength, 
never  fails  of  its  impression  on  the  masses,  and  the 
Swedish  temper  of  that  time  was  so  readily  captivated 
by  astonishing  exploits,  that  the  feeling  of  those  stand- 
ing about  the  stranger  turned  to  respect,  almost  admira- 
tion, while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  fallen  had  to  endure 
their  comrades’  ridicule.  “ Oho  ! there  you  got  a blow, 
copper-beater  ! There  you  got  a crack  on  the  spigot, 
brewer!”  screamed  the  crowd.  “The  man  at  the 
door  is  no  baby.  Who  wants  to  try  another  round  ? ” 
“ Let  him  be  ! ” cried  another  voice.  “ Do  you  not 
see  that  long  back-sword  hanging  down  under  his 
peasant  jacket  ? Can’t  you  comprehend,  blockhead, 
that  he  is  one  of  the  king’s  blue  boys  ?” 

“ Ah,  it  is  one  of  ‘-the  blue  ! ’ Yes,  indeed,  I saw 
that  at  once  by  the  grip.  Live  King  Charles  ! ” 

“ Live  his  brave  boys  ! Hurrah  ! ” 

“ There,  do  you  see  that  ? The  man  lifts  his  hat. 
How  devilish  stupid  to  begin  a quarrel  with  one  of  the 
blue  ! Say,  there,  comrade  at  the  door,  let  the  joke  go 
now,  and  come  and  drink  a glass  with  us.  We  will 
throw  in  three  stivers  apiece,  and  let  the  rest  make 
the  best  of  their  quarrel  with  the  count  in  there.” 

“ Thanks  ! ” replied  the  stranger,  pacified  by  the 
shout  for  the  king,  at  whose  name  he  did  not  fail  to  lift 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME . 


245 


his  hat.  “ I have  a greeting  for  you,”  continued  he, 
“ but  of  that  we  will  talk  hereafter.  Help  me  now  to 
get  this  lady  to  a place  of  safety.” 

“Wait,”  responded  a glove-maker,  who  was  allied 
with  the  nobility,  “ leave  that  to  me.  Count  Bertelskoid! 
Count  Bertelskoid  ! ” 

The  stranger  reddened  again;  but  soon  found  that 
the  call  was  intended  for  a person  who  was  seen  in  the 
window.  The  glove-maker  exchanged  a few  words 
with  the  gentleman  above,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the 
door  opened  and  Torsten  Bertelskoid  appeared,  offer- 
ing his  arm  to  the  lady  in  black.  “Madame  Rhenfelt!  ” 
cried  he.  “Your  arm,  I pray;  you  can  now  be  per- 
fectly calm.” 

“ I thank  you,  count,  but  permit  me  to  bring  in  my 
brave  defender  ! ” said  the  young  widow  of  Councillor 
Rhenfelt,  for  it  was  she.  But  the  tall  stranger  had  dis- 
appeared. 

“Lundberg,”  said  Count  Torsten  loftily,  to  one  of 
the  attendants,  “ hunt  up  the  tall  fellow  who  stood  here 
by  the  door,  and  give  him  this  purse.  How  fortunate 
I consider  myself,  dear  Eva,  to  be  able  to  save  your 
precious  person  ! Follow  me!  The  countess,  up-stairs, 
fortunately  has  her  room  facing  the  garden.” 

The  lady  in  black  followed  him.  But  while  still  in 
the  door  she  cast  a look  back  and  said,  as  it  were,  invol- 
untarily: “A  wonderful  man.  I wish  I could  thank 
him  myself.” 

“ Give  yourself  no  uneasiness,”  answered  Count 
Torsten,  smiling;  “at  this  instant  he  is  probably  in  a 
grocery  drinking  the  king’s  health.  To  people  of  his 
profession  it  is  always  an  excellent  excuse.” 

“Yet  there  was  something  in  his  answer 

But  you  may  be  right.  Wonderful ! I know  of  but 
one  who  could  compare  with  him  in  strength.” 

“ And  who  is  that,  if  I may  ask  ? ” 

“Your  brother.” 

“ What  a fancy  ! But  you  need  rest.  Come,  let 
us  seek  the  countess.” 


246 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII . 


CHAPTER  V. 

HATS  OFF. 

MEANTIME  the  confusion  outside,  in  front  of 
Count  Horn’s  house,  continued.  The  secret 
emissaries  of  the  political  parties  were  undoubtedly 
actively  endeavoring  to  produce  a demonstration  and 
compel  the  government  to  take  sides.  This  confused, 
augmenting  discontent  with  the  present,  kept  up  the 
excitement  in  every  mind,  and  both  those  who  knew 
and  those  who  did  not  know  what  else  they  wanted, 
were  all  of  one  mind  in  wanting  a change  — something 
different  from  the  present  insufferable  situation. 

The  evidence  of  the  parties’  intent  in  stirring  up  the 
meeting  was  soon  apparent,  as  the  cries,  at  first  scat- 
tered, became  by  degrees  concentrated  in  one  which 
was  really  the  watchword  of  all  parties,  the  friends  of 
the  king  included:  “Peace!  Peace!  We  will  have 
peace  ! ” 

“ Hear  the  pack  outside  ! ” said  the  royal  council- 
lor, Falkenberg,  who,  with  several  of  the  councillors,  had 
hurried  to  the  place  and  come  in  through  a back-door. 
“ There  is  a new  Riksdag  in  the  open  air,  only  a little 
noisier  than  the  other.  One  might  be  tempted  to  say: 
4 It  is  Sweden’s  mouth  that  speaks  ! ’ ” 

“ Sweden’s  mouth  has  not  talked  for  so  long  that  it 
squeaks  for  want  of  practice,”  said  another  of  the 
council,  Count  Horn’s  father-in-law,  Field-marshal 
Count  Nils  Gyllenstjerna,  who,  as  well  as  Falkenberg, 
were  out  of  favor  and  almost  in  open  rupture  with  the 
ultra-royalists. 

“ Mere  mouthing  ! ” said  Count  Horn  laconically. 
He,  who  understood  the  situation  better  than  any,  also 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME . 


247 


understood  that  the  new  era  was  not  yet  ripe  to  be 
plucked  like  fruit  from  a tree.  “ Be  kind  enough  to 
see  that  the  promised  aid  is  distributed  to  the  fugi- 
tives, ” added  he,  turning  to  Torsten  Bertelskold. 

“ Peace  ! Peace  ! ” shrieked  the  crowd,  higher  than 
ever,  and  again  a pane  rung  in  the  adjoining  room. 

The  women,  who  sought  an  asylum  in  the  rooms, 
adjoining  the  inner  court,  took  the  matter  less  calmly 
than  the  men.  Countess  Horn  besought  her  father  to 
appease  the  crowd,  and  Eva  Rhenfelt  used  her  influence 
with  her  uncle,  the  venerable  Falkenberg.  Afterwards 
they  altogether  stormed  Count  Horn. 

This  proud  noble,  of  whom  not  even  envy  could 
say  that  he  ever  feared,  had  been  a soldier  before  he 
became  a statesman.  Though  he  had  hitherto  dis- 
dained to  make  use  of  violent  means  against  the  crowd, 
wishing  to  avoid  even  the  appearance  of  using  force  to 
secure  his  personal  safety,  yet  it  is  probable  that  the 
soldier  within  him  found  it  difficult  to  submit  to  the 
calm  deliberation  of  the  statesman.  Spies  were  sent 
out  and  returned  with  new  reports  concerning  the  sit- 
' uation.  They  thought  they  had  seen  money  distributed 
among  the  crowd,  and  free  entertainment  was  furnished 
at  the  groceries.  Count  Horn  conferred  with  the  other 
councillors,  and  the  result  was  that  the  long  expected 
order  went  to  the  commander  of  the  military  to  clear 
the  streets  with  clubbed  muskets,  and  arrest  the  instiga- 
tors of  the  riot. 

Did  they  wish  to  hasten  the  crisis  ? Who  can 
determine  the  motives  for  a perfectly  lawful  and  author- 
ized means  of  maintaining  order  ? The  noble  gentle- 
men were  conscious  that  they  themselves  wished  for 
peace  more  than  any  one  else  did,  but  the  king’s  watch- 
word was  war.  Meanwhile  the  crowd  shouted,  “ Peace!  ” 
and  broke  in  Horn’s  windows  while  they  shouted, 
“ Live  the  king!”  Such  is  always  the  logic  of  the 
masses. 

The  order  was  scarcely  despatched,  when  Bertel- 


248 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XI L 


skold,  who  was  posted  at  one  of  the  windows  with  a 
glass,  whispered  something  to  Count  Horn,  and  the 
result  was  that  a countermand  was  at  once  sent  out. 
One  after  another  of  the  count’s  guests  approached  the 
windows  and  perceived  a marked  change  in  the  crowd. 
The  turmoil  had  mostly  subsided,  hostilities  ceased, 
and  the  crowd  pressed  closer  together.  All  thronged 
around  a certain  point  away  at  the  corner.  Sometimes 
was  heard  a subdued  sound  of  assent,  or  a murmur  of 
suppressed  grumbling  went  through  the  crowd  like  the 
roar  of  a distant  waterfall  ; then  all  became  so  quiet 
that  even  those  standing  farthest  away,  who  could  not 
know  what  the  matter  referred  to,  kept  entirely  still 
when  those  in  front  of  them  were  silent ; and  they 
sought  to  press  nearer  that  they  might  possibly  find 
out  what  was  going  on. 

“ Our  Riksdags  are  always  the  same,”  said  Falken- 
berg,  rather  mockingly.  “ It  is  always  the  rope-dancers 
that  find  the  best  market.” 

“ I do  not  believe  that  the  people  are  amusing 
themselves  to-day  with  such  trifles,”  rejoined  Gyllen- 
stjerna.  “ Or  has  Count  Horn  sent  out  a harlequin  for 
their  entertainment  ? ” 

“ I confess  that  I might  have  tried  that.  But  the 
times  are  changed;  the  crowd,  always  taken  up  with 
playthings,  now  want  new  ones, — perhaps  our  heads. 
The  attempt  to  get  them  will  not  succeed  to-day,  I 
think.  They  are  flocking  together  there  around  a 
speaker,  and  I have  a desire  to  know  what  he  is  telling 
them.” 

“ Lundberg  has  been  sent  out  and  will  soon  report 
the  details,”  said  Bertelskold,  as  he  reached  the  glass  to 
his  superior. 

“ I think  I see  a tall  figure  in  the  midst  of  the 
throng,”  said  Count  Horn. 

“ Perhaps  it  is  your  Excellence’s  cashier,  Langstrom, 
distributing  the  money.” 

The  experienced  statesman  smiled.  “ When  men 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


249 


worship  the  golden  calf  they  dance  and  shout  about 
him  ; his  power  is  seldom  sufficient  to  so  suddenly 
make  them  dumb,  and  to  cause  them,  in  devotional 
silence,  to  crowd  around  an  unknown  middle  point. 
Take  notice,  gentlemen,  it  must  be  a preacher  who  is 
talking  there.” 

“ The  confusion  begins  again  ....  no,  it  be- 
comes stiil  ....  hear,  they  shout : ‘ Hats  off  ! hats 
off!’” 

“Yes,  by  Jupiter,  the  hats  fly  off,  every  head  is 
bare  ....  see,  the  movement  goes  outward  from  the 
centre  like  the  rings  upon  the  placid  surface  of  the 
water  when  a stone  is  thrown  in.” 

“ The  men  press  their  jacket  sleeves  to  their  eyes, 
the  women  the  corners  of  their  aprons.  If  the  honest 
Isogoeas  had  not  died  so  long  ago,  I should  believe 
that  he  had  arisen  from  his  grave  in  the  Clara  church- 
yard to  reprove  those  vicious,  disorderly  fellows  out 
there.” 

“ Gentlemen,”  continued  Horn,  “ after  God’s  name 
there  is  but  one  name  in  Sweden  before  which  every 
head  is  uncovered.  If  the  speaker  is  not  a priest  and 
his  speech  a sermon,  he  must  be  a returned  soldier,  and 
is  telling  them  something  about  . . . .” 

“ Live  King  Charles  ! King  Charles  ! . . . ” A 
loud  hurrah  went  through  the  entire  mass  of  people 
from  the  front  ranks  to  those  farthest  away,  and  practi- 
cally completed  Count  Horn’s  interrupted  sentence. 
Then  all  became  silent  again  ; the  speaker  continued 
and  the  crowd  listened,  but  the  distance  did  not  permit 
the  gentlemen  to  distinguish  what  the  question  was. 

“ What  can  he  be  telling  them  ? ” said  Countess 
Horn,  with  a natural  curiosity. 

“ What  can  he  say  to  a people  who  hunger  and 
freeze  and  bleed  and  sink  under  burdens  of  every  kind, 
and  before  enemies  from  every  side — what  can  he  say 
other  than  what  they  have  themselves  just  cried  : 
Peace  ! Peace  ! ” answered  Gyllenstjerna. 


250 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“ I am  sure  he  is  promising  them  peace  until  spring, ” 
said  Falkenberg.  “ We  must  find  out  who  he  is.  Per- 
haps it  is  a secret  agent  of  Denmark.” 

“ If  it  is  he  whom  I think  it  is/'  whispered  Madam 
Rhenfelt  to  her  uncle,  “ peace  is  the  last  thing  he  will 
demand.” 

This  was  hardly  said  before  a confusing  cry  again 
began  in  the  street,  in  which  could  plainly  be  distin- 
guished the  shout : “ War  ! War  ! Live  the  king  ! 
To  Finland  ! To  Finland  ! ” 

“What!”  exclaimed  Gyllenstjerna.  “Just  now 
they  were  ready  to  crush  out  the  council  in  order  to 
have  peace,  now  they  would  assail  us  to  have  war.  I 
acknowledge  there  was  rather  more  sense  in  their  first 
wish.” 

“ The  sense  of  the  masses,”  replied  Falkenberg 
with  a contemptuous  smile. 

“Yes,”  said  Horn,  “ and  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
masses.  What  might  have  been  accomplished  with 
this  people  if  they  had  not  been  urged  on  to  death  ! 
They  have  in  the  last  ten  years  bled  on  a hundred  bat- 
tle-fields ; they  have  given  the  last  hand  from  the  plow  ; 
they  have  submitted  to  be  slaughtered  and  plundered 
and  trampled  upon  to  serve  as  a pedestal  to  that  hero 
who  now  fills  the  world  with  his  exploits  and  his  fool- 
ishness. And  when,  with  the  crushing  burden  of  their 
misery  upon  them,  a sigh  for  peace  escapes  their  lips, 
it  only  needs  one  of  the  blue  boys  to  arrive  in  their 
midst  and  tell  them  stories,  as  one  does  to  children, 
about  King  Charles  and  his  victories,  and  immediately 
the  same  people  are  ready  to  forget  every  discomfiture, 
all  suffering,  and  again  shout  their  “ live  ” for  him  who 
has  taken  their  blood,  and  to  cry,  “ war  ! war ! ” as  if 
they  had  never  known  what  war  costs.  Gentlemen,  it 
is  possible  to  disapprove  this  people,  it  is  possible  to 
consider  them  fickle, — but  no  one  can  ever  deny  them 
his  admiration  ! ” 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A HA  ME. 


251 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  MESSENGER  FROM  FINLAND. 

THE  reports  which  came  to  Count  Horn  at  once 
confirmed  the  conjectures  of  this  experienced 
statesman.  A soldier,  remarkable  on  account  of  his 
stature  and  his  strange  dress,  had  arisen  in  the  midst 
of  the  people  and  plainly  set  himself  against  their  cry 
for  peace.  He  had  in  simple  and  almost  uncivil  sol- 
dier language,  which  captivated  his  hearers,  told  them 
of  the  king’s  wonderful  achievements  and  his  extraor- 
dinary sacrifices;  that  he  never  spared  himself  more 
than  the  least;  that  he,  with  a handful  of  his  brave 
men,  had  fought  and  would  yet  fight  his  thousands; 
that  his  greatest  fault  was  that  he  had  always  consid- 
ered and  still  regarded  the  Swedes  as  invincible;  that 
he  was  now  in  misfortune,  and  expected  with  certainty 
that  if  the  whole  world  forsook  him,  his  own  people 
would  not  do  it;  that  he  would  one  day  return,  and 
with  an  iron  arm  crush  all  the  enemies  of  the  kingdom; 
that  it  would  grieve  him  if  the  Swedes,  during  this 
time,  should  give  up  his  cause  as  lost;  that  the  enemy 
had  overrun  and  taken  away  the  Osterbotten  prov- 
inces, and  finally  Finland,  which  at  all  times  had  so 
faithfully  fought  and  bled,  standing  as  Sweden’s  outer 
wall;  that  Armfelt’s  army  had  lately  striven  with 
incomparable  courage,  but  had  been  defeated  at  Stor- 
kyro  through  De  la  Barre’s  cowardice;  and  that  it  would 
be  shameful  for  the  Swedes,  in  this  extreme  need,  to 
leave  their  brothers  in  arms  on  the  other  side  of  the 
water  without  assistance.  The  result  of  this  statement 
showed  itself  at  once  in  the  vigorous  outburst  of  the 
new  cry  for  war,  and  the  people  again  crowded  around 


252 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Count  Horn’s  house,  to  demand  speedy  help  for  de- 
vastated Finland. 

At  this  information  the  gentlemen  of  the  council 
looked  at  each  other  with  considerable  embarrassment. 
“All  the  world  knows  that  we  have  suffered  defeat  in 
Osterbotten,  and  the  government  does  not  know  the 
least  word  of  it,”  said  Falkenberg. 

“ It  is  possible,”  said  Horn,  “ that  a private  person 
might  reach  here  by  way  of  Qvarken,  before  Armfelt’s 
courier  could  arrive  by  way  of  Tornea.” 

“ At  all  events,  we  must  find  out  who  the  messen- 
ger is,  and  examine  him  thoroughly,”  was  the  opinion 
of  Gyllenstjerna. 

“ The  tall  soldier  stands  at  the  door  and  asks  audi- 
ence of  his  excellence,”  reported  Lundberg,  the  foot- 
man, who  had  been  out  reconnoitering. 

“ Bring  him  in  ! ” was  the  short  answer. 

All  eyes  were  turned  towards  the  door.  Torsten 
Bertelskold,  who  during  this  time  was  engaged  in  his 
own  private  diplomacy,  and  represented  to  the  amiable 
widow  of  the  late  Rhenfelt,  councillor  of  war,  how 
wrong  it  would  be  that  she,  who  was  fitted  for  the  most 
brilliant  career,  should  pass  the  bloom  of  her  youth 
on  her  country  estate  in  Smaland,  perceived  with  indig- 
nation that  his  flattery  made  very  little  impression.  The 
thoughts  of  the  beautiful  Eva  Rhenfelt  seemed  to  be 
turned  away,  and  it  did  not  escape  the  keen  scrutiny 
of  her  admirer  that  her  handsome  eyes,  like  all  the  rest, 
were  turned  with  singular  interest  towards  the  entrance 
by  which  was  expected  the  messenger  of  misfortune 
from  Finland. 

Torsten  Bertelskold  suspected  the  cause.  “And 
you  also,  beautiful  Eva,”  said  he,  sharply,  “share  the 
ladies’  general  liking  for  the  wonderful.  I fear,  how- 
ever, that  these  adventurers  in  the  Finnish  huts  have 
only  kept  one-half  of  the  old  chevalier’s  watchword. 
The  knight  of  our  day  has  learned  of  our  Orlando 
Furioso  to  respect  honor  highly  but  beauty  ah  the  less, 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


253 


and  I am  much  mistaken  if,  for  example,  my  brother, 
who  is  a conspicuous  member  of  the  wandering  chiv- 
alry, does  not  set  more  value  upon  a horse  than  upon  a 
court  lady,  and  consider  it  more  honorable  to  conquer 
a morass  in  Osterbotten  than  the  heart  of  the  most  lov- 
able woman  in  Stockholm.” 

“ It  is  possible  that  you  are  right,”  replied  Eva 
Rhenfelt,  “and  so  far  as  your  brother  is  concerned, 
he  may  have  changed  very  much  in  the  fourteen  years 
since  I last  saw  him.  But  I believe  that  King  Charles' 
indifference  would  not  prevent  any  princess,  any  wo- 
man in  Europe,  from  admiring  him  in  the  highest 
degree  — loving  him,  if  she  dared  to  lift  her  love  so 
high/' 

“ I have  indeed  heard  it  said  that  a man  with  dusty 
boots  and  bloody  spurs  rides  straight  into  a woman’s 
heart,  but  I could  not  imagine  that  the  doors  stood  so 
wide  open.  The  roles  must  be  changed  in  our  times, 
since  I hear  that  the  beautiful  ladies  par  force  will  take 
the  first  step.  But  let  us  talk  no  more  of  that.  I await 
with  the  greatest  anxiety  this  message  from  Finland. 
We  have  lost  a battle;  my  brother  without  doubt  was 
in  the  fire,  and  when  one  knows  his  foolhardiness, 
not  to  say  insanity  . . . . ” 

“ So  you  hope,  my  count,  that  the  valiant  and 
knightly  nobleman  may  leave  the  field  free  for  diplo- 
macy’s less  dangerous  victories  ...” 

“ My  lady,  we  have  no  inheritance  to  begrudge  each 
other,”  replied  Torsten  Bertelskoid,  provoked. 

Just  then  the  soldier  entered. 

Eva  Rhenfelt  at  once  recognized  her  protector,  who, 
two  hours  before,  had  borne  her  through  the  crowd. 
His  singular  dress,  the  gray  peasant  jacket  over  the 
blue  uniform,  torn  almost  to  tatters,  bore  plain  marks 
of  the  throng  in  the  street,  and  the  bearded  cheeks 
which  for  a long  time  had  not  known  a razor,  gave  him 
a bewildered  appearance,  which  was  in  evident  contrast 
with  his  otherwise  stately  figure  and  noble,  manly  fea- 


254 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


tures,  a contrast  which  was  all  the  stronger  on  account 
of  the  brilliant  surroundings  and  careful  toilets  among 
which  he  was  introduced. 

The  stranger  surely  realized  the  outre  in  his  ap- 
pearance; he  seemed  disconcerted,  and  sought  after 
words. 

Step  nearer  ! ” said  Count  Horn,  in  that  gentle, 
courteous  tone  with  which  men  in  his  position  encour- 
age an  inferior  who,  from  mere  respect,  loses  his  notes. 
“ You  wished  to  speak  with  me;  what  is  your  name  ?” 

“ My  name  was  not  unknown  to  you  when  I had  the 
honor  of  lending  your  Excellence  my  horse  at  Narva, 
or  when  I was  permitted  to  fight  under  your  com- 
mand at  Diina,  Clissow,  and  Thorn/’  replied  the 
stranger,  with  a pride  which  clothed  him  befittingly, 
despite  the  whiskers  and  the  homespun  jacket. 

“What!”  exclaimed  the  count,  with  the  tone  of 
open  familiarity  which  he  always  assumed  with  his  old 
companions-in-arms.  “ And  with  what  regiment  served 
— the  devil — yes,  I have  forgotten  the  name;  pardon 
me,  my  honorable  friend.” 

“ My  name  is  Gustaf  Adolf  Bertelskold,  at  that  time 
ensign  in  the  life-dragoons,  afterwards  with  the  life- 
guards, and  for  the  present  again  with  the  life-dra- 
goons, major,  at  your  Excellence’s  service.” 

The  distinguished  company  started,  and  Torsten 
Bertelskold  most  of  all.  Master  as  he  was  of  his  out- 
ward presence,  he  saluted  his  brother  immediately  and 
with  the  greatest  heartiness.  Count  Horn  also  united 
in  this,  and  all  vied  with  each  other  in  showing  atten- 
tion to  the  new-comer.  But  the  Countess  Horn  pointed 
in  jocose  amazement  to  the  conspicuous  tracks  left 
by  the  wet,  spurred  boots  of  the  unexpected  guest,  on 
the  costly  carpets. 

Gosta  Bertelskold — for  so  we  will  now  call  him — at 
once  ignored  the  questions  which  were  heaped  upon 
him  from  all  sides,  strode  straight  forward  to  Count 
Horn,  and  coming  directly  to  the  point,  said: 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


255 


“ Your  Excellence!  Armfelt  is  defeated  and  Fin- 
land lost.  I have  at  the  risk  of  my  life  come  by  way 
of  Qvarken,  and  have  ridden  hither  day  and  night  to 
ask  for  prompt  relief.  I hope  that  your  Excellence  will 
permit  this  to  serve  as  an  excuse  for  my  appearing  in 
this  guise.” 

“ What  a misfortune!”  exclaimed  Count  Horn,  with- 
out giving  any  attention  to  his  last  words.  “ The  count 
has  probably  a report  and  instructions  from  General 
Armfelt?  ” 

“ During  the  battle  I became  separated  from  the 
main  force  and  cut  my  way  through  to  Wasa;  from  there 
I came  to  Bjorko  islands,  and  from  there  over  the  ice  to 
Vesterbotten.” 

“ Have  the  kindness  to  tell  us  about  the  battle.” 

Gosta  Bertelskold  did  so. 

“ It  is  an  incalculable  misfortune,”  repeated  Horn, 
solemnly.  “ The  means  of  the  government  are  ex- 
hausted; I see  no  way  in  which  we  can  send  any  as- 
sistance from  here  to  Finland.” 

“ Your  Excellence  may  be  right.  And  yet — forgive 
my  boldness — Finland  cannot,  Finland  must  not  be  lost. 
Sweden  is  destitute,  but  it  has  at  least  free  arms  at 
home.  When  it  is  a question  of  a limb  of  one’s  own 
body,  the  blood  of  one’s  own  blood,  the  heart  of  one’s 
own  heart,  the  means  of  preservation  must  be  found. 
Your  Excellence  knows  what  Finland  was  and  what  it 
is  to  Sweden  at  this  moment.  It  defends  itself  now  as 
the  last  champion  on  the  kingdom’s  outworks;  but  it  is 
overpowered,  it  bleeds,  it  dies.  Your  Excellence!  Fin- 
land must  be  saved,  even  if  it  costs  all  that  we  have, 
our  right  arms  and  the  half  of  our  lives!  ” 

“Young  man,”  said  Gyllenstjerna,  “the  govern- 
ment will  do  all  that  is  in  its  power;  no  reasonable  man 
can  ask  more.  Our  coffers  are  empty  . . . .” 

“ We  will  take  the  silver  from  our  tables  . . . .” 

“ That  is  already  done.  The  princess  herself  eats 
from  tin.” 


256 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“ The  diamonds  from  the  king’s  crown!  The  ducat 
from  our  children’s  savings-banks!  The  wedding  ring 
from  our  mother’s  hand!  ” 

“Why  not  Stjerneld’s  proposition  to  sell  the  trophies 
from  Breitenfeld,  Liitzen,  Warsaw  and  Narva  at  auction, 
with  the  free  consent  of  the  several  orders!”  exclaimed 
Falkenberg  bitterly. 

“ Is  there  no  other  means?  We  will  ask  for  volun- 
teers.” 

“Women,  children  and  old  men  now  attend  the  plow. 
The  farms  are  becoming  deserts.  In  all  Scania  there 
are  hardly  twelve  thousand  men.” 

“ Let  the  twelve  thousand  march  out.  The  children 
will  rest  the  muskets  on  the  old  men’s  shoulders  and 
fire  them  off.  The  mothers  will  make  powder  and  run 
bullets.  The  daughters  will  defend  Sweden  as  Varend’s 
girls  did  of  yore.” 

“ Denmark  attacks  us  in  the  rear.” 

“ Sweden  has  more  than  one  Stenbock.” 

“ On  all  sides  are  enemies,  envy,  faithlessness,  de- 
ceit, and  expectation  of  Sweden’s  fall!  ” 

“ The  king  is  coming!  ” 

“ Peace,  not  the  king,  can  save  us.” 

“ Noble  gentlemen  and  governors  of  the  kingdom!” 
burst  out  the  Finnish  messenger,  and  a hot  tear  rolled 
down  his  manly  brown  cheek,  “ when  a man  fights  for 
life,  for  his  brother’s  house,  for  his  daughter’s  honor, 
there  is  no  hesitation.  He  does  not  ask  where  he  shall 
find  the  weapon  to  strike  and  the  arm  to  lift  it,  he 
strikes  with  his  clenched  fist;  he  forges,  as  the  Cartha- 
genians  did,  swords  of  the  hinges  of  his  doors,  the  iron 
plates  of  his  hearth  and  his  last  plow.  The  women  cut 
off  their  hair  to  be  twisted  into  ropes  and  the  children 
give  their  last  shirts  for  bandages.  O,  noble  lords,  to- 
morrow I hasten  back  to  Finland;  do  not  refuse  to  let 
me  bear  back  some  encouragement,  for  to  fight  without 
hope  is  to  fight  with  death  in  the  heart.  Count  Horn, 
noble,  valiant  Count  Horn;  you  are,  as  I am,  a Finn  by 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


257 


birth!  These  other  gentlemen  and  royal  councillors 
are  honest,  wise,  and  patriotic  men;  I beg  them  to  for- 
give a warrior  who  speaks  for  his  home  and  has  long 
since  forgotten  how  to  arrange  his  words  as  they  should 
be  presented  before  the  highest  officers  of  the  govern- 
ment; but  they  can  think  of  Sweden  without  Finland; 
we,  Count  Horn,  cannot  imagine  that;  we  can  live  no 
longer  if  Finland  dies; — save  it!  save  it  or  we  must 
perish  in  its  ruins!  ” 

Count  Horn  arose.  In  spite  of  his  self-control,  so 
often  proved,  his  firm  undisturbed  bearing,  one  could 
yet  detect  an  unusual  warmth  in  his  voice.  “ Sir 
Count,”  said  he,  “you  have  spoken  like  a man,  and  I 
am  sure  that  all  of  us  here  understand  one  another.  I 
promise  you  that  so  far  as  it  depends  upon  me  every- 
thing possible  shall  be  done.  More  I cannot,  more  I 
must  not  promise.  Have  you  any  especial  plan?  ” 

“ Will  your  Excellence  permit  me  to  establish  here 
in  Stockholm  a recruiting  station  for  the  enlistment  of 
volunteers?  ” 

“ Do  so,  if  you  can  in  that  way  accomplish  any 
good.  And  as  you  were  just  now  talking  to  the  people 
outside,  try,  my  dear  Count,  to  calm  their  minds.  After 
that  I beg  you  to  have  the  kindness  to  remain  with  me 
this  evening;  we  still  have  much  to  ask  about.” 

Gosta  Bertelskold  bowed  and  retired.  When  he 
went,  Eva  Rhenfelt  stood  in  his  way  and  pressed  his 
hand.  “ God  bless  you,  Count  Gosta,  and  may  your 
heart’s  desire  be  accomplished!  ” said  she  in  a voice 
which  drove  the  blood  in  flames  to  the  bashful  soldier’s 
cheeks. 

A great  part  of  the  crowd  had  already  scattered; 
the  flame  of  the  straw  had  died  out,  want  and  anxiety 
had  quickly  cooled  their  enthusiasm.  Those  who  re- 
mained contented  themselves  with  the  half-way  assur- 
ance which  the  councillors  had  ventured  to  give; — and 
by  degrees  they  also  separated. 

Bertelskold  returned.  They  talked  all  the  afternoon 
R 11* 


258 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


about  Finland;  very  little  was  known  about  it  at  Stock- 
holm. In  the  midst  of  the  conversation  the  clock  struck 
seven.  Count  Horn  stopped  in  a half-uttered  opin- 
ion, and  called  in  his  people.  The  Bible  was  opened, 
and  all  knelt  in  accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  time, 
and  united  in  the  evening  prayer. 

When  they  arose,  the  noble  count  resumed  his 
speech  where  he  had  left  it.  “ Gentlemen,  my  col- 
leagues,” said  he,  “ let  us  now  consider  the  letter  which 
has  just  arrived  from  his  majesty  concerning  the 
princess’s  betrothal.” 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  BOOK  OF  VICTORIES. 

IN  those  great,  violent  storms  which  overthrow  em- 
pires, sweep  away  powers,  and  turn  the  stream  of 
Time  into  new  channels,  there  are  many  thousand  sighs 
breathed  out  unheard.  Kings,  marshals,  statesmen, 
stand  like  rocking  topmasts  in  the  ocean’s  swell;  who 
reckons  the  unnumbered  waves  which  heave  about  them, 
glittering  a moment  in  the  declining  sun  and  then  sink- 
ing down  to  disappear,  forgotten?  History  notes  only 
masses  and  points,  the  sum  of  the  sacrifices,  the  river 
of  the  tears;  individuals  perish  and  yet  continually  sur- 
vive, the  human  heart  continues  to  beat  with  the  same 
stroke  in  every  age. 

The  day  after  the  occurrence  which  is  described  in 
the  foregoing  chapter,  three  such  hearts  were  beating 
in  the  confidential  twilight  of  Countess  Liewen’s  cabi- 
net. Parted  for  many  years  by  the  storms  of  time,  all 
of  them  bleeding  from  deep  wounds  and  yet  all  uncon- 
quered by  shifting  fate,  they  found  each  other  no  longer 
the  same  as  before  in  the  first  bloom  of  youth,  when 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


259 


life  sported  before  them  in  rosy  hues  at  the  court  of  the 
young  king,  but  unchanged  in  heart,  equally  noble,  equal- 
ly affectionate,  only  made  stronger  by  life’s  trials.  An  un- 
usual sight — three  noble  persons  who  could  lay  their 
hands  upon  their  hearts  and  say  to  each  other  that  dur- 
ing the  past  fourteen  tempestuous  years  they  had  not 
for  an  instant  failed  in  their  duty,  their  love,  or  their 
remembrance! 

Gosta  Bertelskold  had,  in  his  task  of  raising  sol- 
diers, been  obliged  to  remain  at  Stockholm.  He  had 
allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded  to  take  lodgings  with 
his  sister,  and  was  now  in  some  measure  restored  as  to 
his  exterior;  the  beard  was  shaved  and  the  uniform 
necessarily  repaired.  He  had  even  consented  to  show 
himself  in  the  company  of  ladies, — he  who  had  never 
ventured  to  look  a woman  in  the  eye  since  that  fateful 
evening  with  Aurora  Konigsmark  ! Yet  it  was  only 
his  sister,  the  Countess  Liewen,  and  the  friend  of  their 
childhood,  Eva  Falkenberg,  now  Rhenfelt’s  widow,  who 
were  able  for  an  evening  to  keep  the  stubborn  soldier 
with  them.  They  had  lured  from  him  some  of  his  ad- 
ventures,— short,  powerful  sketches,  where  oftenest  the 
king,  sometimes  Horn,  Lewenhaupt,  or  Armfelt,  but 
never  himself,  played  the  principal  role  in  the  story. 
And  they  pictured  in  their  turn  all  the  rapture  of  the 
victories,  all  the  anguish  of  the  defeats,  all  the  fearful 
uncertainty  which,  for  months  at  a time,  during  these 
martial  events,  now  enchanted,  now  tormented,  those 
who  remained  at  home  in  Sweden. 

There  was  also  a painful  subject,  which  all  avoided 
touching  upon,  until  Bertelskold  took  his  sister’s  deli- 
cate soft  hand  in  his  hard  grasp,  and,  looking  her 
heartily  and  faithfully  in  the  eye,  said:  “ I am  to  greet 
you,  Ebba,  for  Erik  Falkenberg  ! ” 

The  countess  was  silent,  and  her  warm  eyes,  never 
far  from  the  source  of  tears,  were  moistened  by  a mist 
which  soon  began  to  drop  in  clear  pearls  down  her  love- 
ly cheeks.  She  only  nodded  that  she  understood  him. 


260 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII 


“ The  night  before  the  battle  of  Pultowa,”  continued 
Bertelskold,  “ and  a little  before  midnight,  we  were 
both  on  watch  at  the  same  bivouac,  and  exchanged 
greetings  with  each  other.  ‘ If  I fall,’  said  Erik  Fal- 
kenberg,  ‘ greet  your  sister  and  tell  her  that  I fell  for 
my  king  and  my  country,  with  her  image  in  my  heart 
to  the  last.’  The  rest  you  know.  He  fell  the  next  day 
at  noon,  while  we  were  covering  the  king’s  retreat;  I 
had  only  time  to  press  his  hand,  for  I could  not  remain 
there  longer.” 

Both  the  ladies  melted  into  tears.  Eva  Rhenfelt 
pressed  his  hand.  “ My  brother’s  shade  thanks  you 
through  me  for  delivering  his  message,”  said  she 
warmly. 

“ I could  not  do  it  before,”  replied  Bertelskold,  and 
unconsciously  pressed  the  hand  that  was  reached  to 
him,  so  severely  that  the  beautiful  Eva  winced  from 
pain.  Bertelskold  noticed  it,  and  blushed  deeply;  this 
was  his  bad  habit  now,  when  a strange  fate  brought  him 
into  ladies’  company. 

“You  should  likewise  know,  Count  Gosta,”  said 
Eva,  to  compose  him,  “ you  should  know  that  your  sis- 
ter mourned  my  brother  for  five  years,  and  when  a year 
ago  she  allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded  to  become 
Count  Liewen’s  wife,  she  did  so  only  on  condition  that 
she  should  retain  her  weeds  whenever  etiquette  did  not 
peremptorily  demand  gayer  colors.  But  let  us  not  talk 
of  this.  Count  Gosta  is  so  dear  and  so  rare  a guest, 
that  we  must  not  frighten  him  away  with  such  sorrow- 
ful memories.” 

“Dear  Eva,”  interrupted  the  countess,  “permit 
me  to  claim  your  olden  friendship.  Call  him  you.” 

“If  the  count  has  nothing  against  it,”  replied  Eva 
Rhenfelt,  and  before  the  tears  had  had  time  to  leave 
her  long  black  lashes,  the  old  roguishness  lay  in  wait  in 
the  corners  of  her  eyes. 

“ I ? ” said  Bertelskold,  utterly  embarrassed,  and 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


261 


probably  wishing  that  he  was  a hundred  miles  away,  in 
the  midst  of  Cossack  pikes  on  Storkyro  ice. 

“ Allonsf  interrupted  the  countess;  “ we  will  con- 
sider that  settled.  Here  are  we  three,  grown  up,  as  it 
were,  from  the  same  root,  out  of  the  same  times,  the 
same  joys  and  the  same  sorrows.  Let  us  three  play 
politics  for  once  and  form  an  alliance,  offensive  and  de- 
fensive— of  course  with  my  husband’s  consent.  No 
one  knows  what  may  come  to  pass.  We  may  all  need  a 
friend  to  rely  upon.” 

Bertelskold  could  not  refuse  his  hand,  but  he  took 
good  care  not  too  press  too  hard.  It  seemed  to  him  as 
if  his  hand  burned  when  it  touched  Eva  Rhenfelt’s. 
The  countess  smiled.  The  happiness  of  again  having 
her  beloved  brother  quickly  dried  up  the  fountain  of 
her  tears.  “ Does  my  valiant  brother  know  a certain 
book — le  void!  ” And  with  this  she  reached  out  a little 
memorandum  book  elegantly  bound  in  green  morocco, 
and  gilt-edged;  the  leaves  showed  evident  traces  of 
having  been  frequently  opened. 

Gosta  Bertelskold  opened  the  book  and  read  on 
the  first  page,  in  Ebba’s  hand:  The  Book  of  Victories. 
Gustaf  Bertelskold.  Anno  1700. 

This  struck  a sensitive  cord  in  the  Carolin’s  breast. 
He  laughed  and  ciied  at  the  same  time;  he  fell  upon 
his  sister’s  neck  with  such  vehemence  that  she,  almost 
choked,  drew  herself  by  force  out  of  his  arms. 

“ As  several  persons  in  this  company  may  possibly 
have  forgotten  the  circumstances  connected  with  my 
little  book,  I will  refresh  their  memory,”  continued  the 
countess.  “ It  happened  one  fine  winter  day  that  my 
hot-headed  brother  was  pleased  to  throw  the  page,  Gus- 
taf Otto  Douglas,  down  stairs  at  Drottningholm,  be- 
cause Douglas  called  the  Finnish  nobility  oxen,  since 
they  were  not  ashamed  to  talk  their  vulgar  Finnish 
among  themselves  in  the  royal  castle.  For  this  ex- 
ploit my  brother  was  arrested,  and  when  he  was 


262 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


released  he  chanced  to  get  into  a quarrel  with  Eva 
Falkenberg,  who  chided  him  for  showing  his  manhood 
on  a poor  page,  and  intimated  that  she  doubted  how 
courageous  he  would  show  himself  against  his  country’s 
enemies.  My  new  book  lay  unwritten  on  the  table  be- 
fore him;  whereupon  Gosta  took  the  book  and  said, 
without  counting  the  leaves:  4 Miss  Eva  shall  know 
this,  that  I will  not  come  back  to  Stockholm  before  I 
have  a victory,  or  at  least  an  honorable  encounter,  to 
inscribe  on  everyone  of  these  leaves.’  And  as  he  went 
away  the  next  day,  and  now,  for  the  first  time  in  four- 
teen years,  has  returned  to  Stockholm,  the  time  has 
come  to  examine  the  leaves,  and  see  if  he  has  kept  his 
word.” 

“ That  is  true,”  said  Eva  Rhenfelt;  “the  man  must 
show  that  the  boy  has  kept  his  word.” 

Count  Gosta  began  to  turn  over  the  leaves  of  the 
book.  The  most  of  them  were  already  inscribed  in 
Ebba’s  hand.  On  the  first  leaf  he  read:  Tiberup , 
July  25th , 1700.  On  the  second,  Narva , November 
20th , 1700.  And  so  on  continuously,  leaf  after  leaf, 
year  after  year,  victory  after  victory,  till  the  unfortu- 
nate year  1709.  Here  the  entries  stopped,  and  ten  or 
fifteen  leaves  remained  uninscribed. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  UNINSCRIBED  LEAF. 

^ T HAVE  no  more  victories!”  exclaimed  Gosta 
I Bertelskold,  half  in  sport,  half  in  sorrow,  as 
he  contemplated  the  blank  leaves  after  1709. 

“ ‘ Or  an  honorable  encounter  ’ — so  ran  the  prom- 
ise ! ” rejoined  his  sister,  whose  kind  heart  suspected 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


263 


how  much  seriousness  lay  behind  the  defeated  Caro- 
lina smile. 

“ I accept  it,”  Eva  Rhenfelt  hastened  to  say.  “ I 
accept  it  all  the  sooner  since  Narva,  Duna,  Clissow, 
Holofzin,  Warsaw,  Thorn,  and  so  many  others  which 
fill  long  pages  in  books  of  history,  have  taken  up  but  a 
single  leaf  and  a single  line  in  the  ‘ Book  of  Victories  ’ 
by  Gustaf  Adolf  Bertelskold.” 

“ By  Charles  XII.,”  said  Bertelskold,  by  way  of  cor- 
rection. 

“ As  you  like.  Written  by  the  greatest  author  of 
this  kind  of  literature  of  the  present  age,  and  perhaps 
of  all  ages,  but  published  with  the  last  ducat  of  the 
Swedish  people.  Go  on;  an  encounter  now  for  each 
remaining  page !” 

“Very  well,  I accept  the  invitation,  but  with  the 
reservation  that  the  encounter  shall  not  be  ended  with 
defeat,  and  that  the  honor  of  arms  shall  be  unflecked.” 

“ I know  of  defeats  that  bore  with  them  undying 
honor,  while  victory  accomplished  very  little.  And  be- 
sides, when  has  the  Swedish  escutcheon  ever  been 
stained,  whether  victory  or  misfortune  was  the  result  ?” 

“ Would  that  I could  answer:  Never!  But  even 
the  brightest  shield  may  be  stained  sometimes,  for  we 
are  all  mortals,  who  cannot  undo  what  is  done,  although 
we  afterward  bitterly  repent  what,  in  the  heat  of  the 
battle,  we  have  done  amiss.  Well,  I will  write,  since  I 
must  keep  my  word.  But  it  is  a long  time  since  I last 
saw  pen  and  ink.” 

“ Mon  ajni  cannot  deny  the  evidence  of  his  own 
eyes,”  laughed  Ebba,  for  Bertelskold’s  first  literary 
achievement  was  a great  blot  in  the  Book  of  Victories. 

“ The  pot-hooks  will  be  too  abominable  for  this  fine 
paper,”  answered  the  embarrassed  warrior,  but  yet  con- 
tinued to  write,  and  had  by  degrees  filled  every  leaf 
with  a name  and  a date  up  to  “ Pelkane,  October  6, 
1713.”  The  last  leaf  was  left  unwritten. 

Both  of  the  ladies  looked  at  the  new  contents  of  the 


264 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


book — great,  stiff  letters,  printed  as  if  with  the  point  of 
a sword.  “The  last  leaf,”  they  both  exclaimed  at 
once. 

“ Empty!” 

“And  why  not  Storkyro  ?” 

“ We  were  beaten.” 

“ But  after  a valiant  defense,  after  having  twice  re- 
pulsed the  enemy  and  taken  six  cannons,  as  you  told 
us  yourself — ” 

“We  were  beaten,  I say.” 

“Two  thousand  Finns  fell  in  the  most  perfect  or- 
der, rank  by  rank,  man  by  man,  officers  at  the  head  of 
their  companies,  under-officers  at  the  head  of  their  files; 
they  fell  with  honorable  wounds  without  yielding  a step 
from  their  places,  and  surrounded  by  fallen  foes.  Are 
you  a soldier,  Gosta,  and  refuse  to  this  overthrow  a 
place  in  the  Book  of  Victories!” 

“ Fall  ? Any  cart-boy  can  do  that.  Fight!  Any 
hireling  can  do  that.  But  to  do  one’s  duty!  We  did 
not  do  it  at  Storkyro,  and  therefore  that  day  cannot  be 
entered  in  Ebba’s  book.  Every  one  of  us  who  outlived 
that  day  ought  to  be  court-martialed.” 

“ But  Armfelt,  you,  all  of  you  excepting  the  caval- 
ry, fought  with  unexampled  bravery  to  the  very  end.” 

“ Except  the  cavalry,  yes.  To  whomsoever  the 
fault  belonged,  it  is  not  our  custom  to  survive  such 
days.  It  is  very  simple:  A man  falls,  and  there  is 
nothing  more  to  say.  For  my  part  I did  my  best  to 
share  the  fate  of  the  others,  but  I could  not  do  that 
without  fighting,  and  so  I chanced  to  hew  my  way 
through.  Let  us  talk  no  more  about  it.” 

“But  what  shall  we  write  on  the  last  page  !” 

“ I do  not  know.  Perhaps  Eva  will  give  a poor  sol- 
dier credit  till  the  next  time  for  new  victories  on  inter- 
est and  secured  by  his  heart’s  blood  ?” 

“ ‘The  next  time’  is  a knave.” 

“ Then  I have  no  expedient.” 

“ Unless  you  give  yourself  in  pawn,”  said  his  sister. 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME. 


265 


“ That  would  be  a surer  pledge  than  your  heart’s 
blood,  which  every  hostile  bullet  has  a claim  on.” 

“ Eva  will  not  have  so  poor  a pledge,  neither  is  it 
in  my  power  to  give  it  just  now,”  replied  Bertelskold, 
and  unintentionally  broke  in  two  a pair  of  fine  English 
shears  which  he  took  from  the  sewing-table. 

Eva  looked  out  of  the  window  and  drummed  on  the 
pane  Charles  XII  ’s  March  at  Narva. 

“ I know  of  one  means  yet,”  continued  the  coun- 
tess, pleased  with  the  embarrassment  which  she  had 
caused  one  of  the  bravest  men  and  one  of  the  most 
heroic  women  of  the  time.  “ Can  you  guess  it  ?” 

“ I am  very  bad  at  guessing  riddles,”  replied  Gosta. 
“ Let  Torsten  guess  in  my  place;  he  understands  it  bet- 
ter than  I do.” 

“ I doubt  if  Torsten  would  be  of  my  opinion,” 
smiled  Ebba,  “ and  it  is  therefore  better  that  we  three 
allies  guess  together.  Here  is  a leaf  in  the  book  on 
which  is  inscribed:  Vilrgen , January  20th,  1702.  Mon 
ami  has  perhaps  forgotten  it.  I will  remind  him  that 
he  won  a victory  which  with  all  reason  may  pass  for 
two,  for  with  the  exception  of  his  Majesty  King  Charles 
XII,  Gosta  Bertelskold  is  the  only  mortal  who,  at  nine- 
teen years,  has  ever,  unconquered,  parted  with  Aurora 
Konigsmark.” 

“ So  you  mean  . . 

“ That  we  shall  write  on  the  last  leaf:  Balance  to 
credit  a victory  in  1702.  Approved:  Eva  Rhenfelt, 
nee  Falkenberg.” 

“ Approved,”  answered  Eva. 

“ Disallowed,”  said  Bertelskold. 

“ What!”  exclaimed  the  countess.  “ My  lord  has 
then  deluded  us  ? — was  probably  overcome  in  the  strug- 
gle ?” 

“ No,  but  . . .” 

“ Permit  me  to  refresh  your  memory  with  a circum- 
stance that  will  perhaps  make  it  more  desirable  to  have 
the  last  page  fully  inscribed.  Void.  In  the  same  let- 

12 


266 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


ter,  dated  Narva,  December  7th,  1700,  in  which  mon 
ami  narrates  his  promise  at  the  time  of  his  departure 
from  Stockholm,  it  is  mentioned  further: — And  to 
this,  answered  Eva  Falkenberg,  I do  not  believe  it; 
you  may  be  pleased  to  club  bears.  Whereupon  I said: 
What  will  Miss  Eva  promise  me  if  it  turns  out  as  I have 
said?  And  then  she  said:  You  may  ask  me  whatever 
you  will;  I will  deny  you  nothing.  Is  that  sure  ? I said. 
Yes,  as  sure,  said  she,  as  the  cock  on  the  top  of  St. 
Jacob’s  church  tower;  before  he  crows  I will  never  fail. 
— There,  does  Eva  Rhenfelt  refuse  to  keep  Eva  Falk- 
enberg’s  promise  ?” 

“My  hope  is  placed  on  St.  Jacob’s  tower,”  replied 
Eva,  smiling. 

“So,”  said  the  countess,  “ if  the  last  page  is  written 
in  the  Book  of  Victories,  the  holder  of  this  bond  has 
the  right  to  demand  of  the  widow  of  the  councillor  of 
war,  the  well-born  Madame  Eva  Rhenfelt,  nee  Falken- 
berg, the  obligation  of  this  bond  to  its  full  amount, 
namely:  whatever  he  will” 

“ I appeal  to  the  oracle  on  the  church  tower,”  re- 
sumed Eva  in  the  same  tone. 

“ As  the  bond  is  unwritten,  the  most  lawful  demand 
fails,”  exclaimed  Bertelskold,  also  in  the  same  tone. 
“ A man  makes  speedy  advancement  in  the  school  of 
such  amiable  teachers.” 

“ In  so  remarkable  a suit  the  order  of  the  action 
must  be  suspended,”  continued  the  countess.  “ I pro- 
pose a compromise.  The  bond  shall  be  cancelled 
but  the  creditor  shall  take  in  its  stead  a mortgage  on 
the  debtor.” 

The  parties  were  silent.  They  both  knew  that  their 
whole  life’s  happiness  was  at  stake.  From  his  earliest 
youth  Eva  Falkenberg’s  image  had  grown  indelibly  into 
the  brave  Carolin’s  heart;  this  image  had  been  with  him 
in  a hundred  conflicts,  among  the  dead  of  the  battle 
field  and  in  the  private  thoughts  of  the  bivouac;  it  had 
guarded  him  in  the  presence  of  innumerable  dangers 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


267 


during  his  wild,  adventurous  war-career,  and  it  was  this 
beloved  image  he  had  to  thank  that  his  lips  had  never 
met  those  of  woman,  and  that  to  this  moment,  at  thirty- 
one  years  of  age,  he  retained  the  modesty  and  inno-* 
cence  of  the  first  years  of  his  youth.  And  she — the 
widow  of  an  old  man  of  eighty,  to  whose  expiring  life 
she  had,  out  of  friendship,  devoted  two  years  of  self- 
denial, — with  what  ecstacy  had  she  listened  to  these 
victories,  the  renown  of  which  filled  the  world  and  in 
which  the  favorite  of  her  childhood  had  such  an 
honored  part!  What  a charm  had  all  these  extraordi- 
nary dangers  and  adventures  for  her  elevated  and  no- 
ble mind!  The  older  she  grew  the  more  plainly  she 
understood  that  only  such  a man,  a man  in  the  strictest 
sense  of  the  word,  was  worthy  of  her  love.  And  now 
at  twenty-nine  years  of  age,  when  woman’s  love  is  her 
whole  life, — now  there  stood  before  her  the  hero  of  the 
legends,  modest  as  herself,  equally  ardent  but  equally 
dumb,  and  casual  words,  whichever  way  they  fell,  bore 
a whole  future  for  them  both.  Therefore,  Gosta  Ber- 
telskold  was  silent.  Therefore,  Eva  Rhenfelt  was  silent. 
The  spring  winds  beat  with  snowy  wings  upon  the  win- 
dow-panes, and  within  there  was  a long,  long  pause,, 
occupied  by  tempestuous  thoughts. 

Bertelskold  arose  and  took  his  hat.  A long  farewell 
awaited  them.  Ebba  Liewen  felt  it  and  spoke. 
“Gosta,”  said  she  kindly,  umon  cceur , your  life  has  hith- 
erto been  mere  danger  and  strife;  no  one  dares  to  doubt 
your  courage.  You  have  hitherto  been  an  exile  bleed- 
ing away  your  youth  in  foreign  lands;  but  your  own 
land  needs  you  at  home  with  us.  You  must  no  longer 
live  for  honor  alone,  you  must  live  for  us  who  love  you, 
for  your  sister  and  for — her.  Do  not  go  away  from  us; 
stay  in  Sweden!  Count  Horn  needs  your  experience, 
perhaps  also  your  arm,  if  the  Danes  should  attack  us. 
Stay  with  us!  ” 

“Do  not  speak  of  it!  I understand  your  goodness, — 
your  friendship;  why  should  not  Sweden  be  dear  to  me! 


268 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


But  in  Finland  I was  born;  Finland  is  forsaken  and  in 
extreme  need;  to  stay  with  you  would  be  to  abandon 
my  birthplace.” 

“All  Finland  is  overrun  with  enemies.  It  is  lost 
and  you  cannot  save  it.  Stay  with  us!  ” 

“ If  it  is  lost  and  I cannot  save  it,  I can  at  least  die 
for  it.  I must  go  to  Finland.” 

“Think  what  unspeakable  difficulties  await  you;  I do 
not  say  dangers,  for  them  you  despise, — but  to  be  hunted 
like  a wild  beast  in  those  desolate  woods,  without  honor 
and  without  victory,  to  die  of  hunger  and  cold  in  that 
devastated  land  which  no  longer  owns  a hut  where  you 
can  obtain  rest  and  care,  when  you  have  in  vain  poured 
out  your  blood  in  battle!  Alas,  stay  with  us!  ” 

“The  snow  has  often  been  my  lodging  place  and  the 
starry  vault  of  heaven  my  roof  by  night.  I shall  sleep 
there  more  calmly  when  I have  done  my  duty  than  I 
could  at  home  with  you,  in  the  softest  bed.” 

“At  home  with  us  you  will  find  more  than  rest,  more 
than  care: — an  activity  full  of  honor!  You  will  find 
here  more  than  a sister — alas,  I do  not  speak  of  my- 
self! You  will  find  a heart  which  has  throbbed  for  you 
through  every  fate,  a heart  as  noble  and  as  brave  as 
your  own,  and  one  which  Sweden’s  most  valiant  nobles 
would  envy  you.  Stay  here,  Gosta!  Away,  there 
await  you  desolation,  solitude,  cold,  darkness,  despair, 
death;  here,  prosperity,  friendship,  light,  love,  life! 
Choose!  ” 

“ My  choice  is  made.  Farewell,  Ebba!  ” 

His  sister  threw  herself  into  his  arms.  “Eva,  Eva!” 
she  cried,  “help  me  to  keep  him!  You  can  do  it,  you 
can  do  it!  ” 

But  Eva  Rhenfelt  stepped  nearer,  with  high-borne 
head  and  eyes  flashing  with  pride.  Before  any  one  sus- 
pected her  intention,  she  had  seized  the  pen  and  with  a 
vigorous  hand  had  written  on  the  last  page  of  the  Book 
of  Victories: 

“ Stockholm  y March  24th , 1714 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME . 


269 


“ What  have  you  written?  ” whispered  Ebba.  “ To- 
day? ” 

“ To-day.” 

“A  victory?  ” 

“ The  greatest!  ” 

“And  your  promise?” 

“ That  shall  be  fulfilled,  when  and  how  Count  Ber- 
telskold  may  demand.  Go  with  God,  noble,  worthy 
champion  of  our  unfortunate  land!  Whether  you  re- 
turn or  not,  whether  you  remember  me  or  forget  me, 
my  promise  is  inscribed  on  the  last  page  of  the  Book  of 
Victories!  ” 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE  LION  RETURNS  FROM  THE  CHASE. 

HE  first  day  of  December,  1714 — the  day  is  note- 


worthy — several  of  the  boldest  of  the  party-men 
were  assembled  at  Sven  Leijonmarck’s  at  Finstaholm, 
not  far  from  Upsala.  Sleighing  had  come  early,  and  the 
winter  was  sharp,  as  it  always  was  “when  the  Russians 
were  in  motion,”  for  they  were  in  league  with  the  ele- 
ments. Round  about  was  heard  the  howling  of  wolves 
in  the  snow-storm,  and  the  working-men  before  the 
great  fire  whispered  to  each  other  that  the  cry  of  the 
wolves  meant  new  human  victims  out  on  the  ice.  Six 
or  eight  Finnish  fugitives,  stretched  out  before  the  fire, 
fainting  from  weakness,  lifted  up  their  heads  at  this 
noise  and  looked  at  each  other  in  sad  dejection.  They 
knew  too  well  that  a day  seldom  went  by  in  these  times 
without  their  learning  that  a lonely  traveler,  sometimes 
a whole  family  among  the  fugitives,  chilled  and  hun- 
gry, wandering  from  farm  to  farm,  from  village  to  vil- 


270 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


la ge,  had  been  torn  to  pieces  by  wolves  in  the  desolate 
winter  night. 

The  gentlemen  within  did  not  seem  to  be  in  much 
better  spirits.  They  had,  at  the  customary  hour,  taken 
part  in  the  usual  evening  prayer,  which  was  seldom 
neglected;  but  it  was  with  scattered  thoughts  and  anx- 
ious minds.  Not  even  Leijonmarck  himself,  who  often 
asked  counsel  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  received  any  especial 
inspiration.  He  distractedly  turned  over  some  sheets 
of  manuscript,  lying  on  the  table  before  him,  with  the 
title:  “Address  of  all  of  the  four  orders  of  Finland  to 
the  nobility,  the  clergy,  and  the  citizens  of  Stockholm.” 

The  occasion  of  the  meeting  of  these  gentlemen 
was  the  rumor  that  the  king  was  on  his  way  back  from 
Turkey.  But  Rumor  had  so  long  and  so  often  lied 
with  a thousand  tongues,  that  no  one  knew  what  he 
ought  to  believe  and  what  he  therefore  ought  to  do. 
The  cautious  dean,  Molin,  was  thoughtfully  silent;  the 
bold  Erik  Benzelius  ruminated  on  new  plans;  the  down- 
cast councillor  Gyllencreutz  had  lost  his  notes;  and 
Leijonmarck,  who  was  in  general  a temperate  man, 
sipped  oftener  than  was  his  custom  from  the  ale-can 
provided  for  the  entertainment  of  the  company. 

While  these  gentlemen  were  in  such  great  perplex- 
ity, a bell  was  heard  ringing  in  the  court,  and  soon 
after  Torsten  Bertelskold  entered  and  pleasantly  laid 
aside  his  elegant  sable  cloak.  The  gentlemen  crowded 
around  him,  asking  the  news  from  Stockholm,  and  it 
was  remarkable  to  see  how  wisely  they  understood  what 
to  say,  before  the  answer  gave  them  any  indication  of 
what  was  to  follow. 

“ The  count  looks  as  though  he  brought  agreeable 
news,”  said  Molin.  “ His  majesty  probably  will  soon 
cheer  his  faithful  subjects  by  his  longed-for  return.” 

“God  grant  it!”  exclaimed  Leijonmarck. 

“ I would  give  my  last  dollar  to  the  poor,  if  we 
could  rely  on  that  with  certainty,”  remarked  Gyllen- 
creutz. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


271 


“ Next  to  the  welfare  of  the  kingdom,  must  the 
welfare  of  the  king  be  our  highest  wish,”  said  Benze- 
lius,  altogether  too  sincere  to  feign  over-much  loyalty 
just  in  this  uncertainty. 

“ What  news  ?”  they  cried  in  chorus. 

“ Nothing  especial,  so  far  as  I know,”  answered 
Bertelskold,  rather  maliciously,  for  he  was  evidently 
pleased  to  make  a jest  of  the  gentlemen’s  curiosity. 

“ But  the  government  must  have  received  the  cour- 
ier, who  was  expected  to  arrive  yesterday  from  Stral- 
sund,”  said  Molin. 

“ He  arrived  this  morning  in  fact,  but  was  obliged 
to  make  a detour  on  account  of  the  Danes.” 

“ And  what  news  did  he  bring  of  the  king’s  return?” 

“ Nothing — excepting  that  King  August  had  put  in 
motion  a whole  army  of  freebooters  to  capture  if  possi- 
ble our  gracious  king  on  the  way.” 

A pause  ensued,  and  they  looked  at  each  other  in 
some  embarrassment.  The  mere  possibility  of  the 
king’s  capture  by  this  most  inveterate  enemy  was  suffi- 
cient to  cause  even  those  most  unfriendly  to  Charles 
XII  to  recoil. 

“ We  are  honest  men,”  said  Benzelius  with  warmth, 
“ and  wish  his  majesty  well,  yet  no  one  can  take  it  amiss 
that  we  have  before  us  salutem  regni.  You  can  there- 
fore lay  aside  all  circumlocution.  Count  Bertelskold, 
you  have  come  from  Horn  and  know  his  suspicions,  as 
well  as  those  of  the  rest  of  the  council,  in  this  affair. 
Plainly,  what  does  the  council  think  of  it  ?” 

“ The  council  always  most  submissively  thinks  ex- 
actly what  his  majesty  thinks,”  replied  Bertelskold. 
“ And  as  his  majesty  thinks  he  will  soon  stand  upon 
Swedish  soil,  the  council  thinks  so,  too.  I presume  the 
gentlemen  all  think  the  same.” 

“ Undoubtedly,”  said  Gyllencreutz.  “But  since 
here  are  no  facts,  only  conjectures — what  does  Count 
Horn  think  about  it  ?” 

“ Gentlemen,  I know  nothing,”  and  the  diplomatic 


272 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII . 


shrug  was  very  becoming  to  Count  Torsten.  “ I have 
not  the  honor  of  knowing  the  conjectures  of  the  coun- 
cil. It  is  feared  that  his  majesty’s  journey  may  be 
broken  off  in  some  disagreeable  way.  There  is  relia- 
ble information  that  his  majesty  left  Demotica  the  twen- 
tieth of  September  at  ten  o’clock  in  the  morning,  and 
when  one  knows  his  majesty’s  way  of  traveling  . . . ” 

“ It  is  now  the  first  day  of  December,”  said  Molin, 
seriously. 

“ And  the  tenth  of  November  in  the  afternoon, 
when  the  courier  left  Stralsund,  not  the  slightest  news 
of  his  majesty  had  been  received,”  added  Count  Tors- 
ten, quite  coldly. 

“ His  departure  must  have  been  known  both  to  Czar 
Peter  and  King  August,”  observed  Gyllencreutz. 

“ And  it  is  probable,”  said  Leijonmarck,  “ that  Be- 
lial’s prince  sent  out  from  Dresden  portraits  of  his 
majesty  on  every  road  where  he  might  possibly  pass.” 

“ Unnecessary  trouble !”objected  Benzelius.“Charles 
XII’s  portrait  is  already  found  in  every  cottager’s  hut 
in  all  Europe.” 

“When  one  puts  everything  together,”  observed 
Gyllencreutz  . . . 

“ With  the  king’s  well-known  temerity,”  added  the 
peace-loving  Molin  . . . 

“ And  the  counsel  of  the  ungodly,”  put  in  Leijen- 
marck  . . . 

“ And  Sweden’s  fate!”  exclaimed  Benzelius  .... 

“ So  . . .” 

“ So  it  is  quite  probable  that  his  majesty  is  . . .” 

“ Captured!” 

“No.  . . Charles  XII  will  never  suffer  himself  to  be 
taken  alive,”  said  Benzelius  gloomily.  For  a time  all 
were  perfectly  still.  The  thought  of  the  fall  of  such  a 
giant  paralyzed  every  tongue. 

“Gentlemen,”  finally  said  Count  Torsten,  the  only 
one  who  had  the  courage  to  smile,  “ a conjecture,  rien 
de plus!  I have  said  nothing.” 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A HA  ME. 


273 


“ But  considering  the  general  tenor  of  the  circum- 
stances/’ began  Gyllencreutz. 

“ And  with  the  reservation  of  all  loyal  faith  and  re- 
spect,” added  Molin. 

“ We  must  so  act,”  said  Benzelius. 

“ The  time  has  come,”  said  Leijonmarck,  boldly. 
“ Saul  has  fallen  upon  his  own  sword,  and  the  Lord 
must  save  Israel  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Philis- 
tines.” 

“ If  it  has  unfortunately  happened  that  the  king  has 
fallen,”  continued  Molin,  “ discretion  bids  us  to  be  pre- 
pared for  whatever  may  come.  The  council  will  in 
such  a case  call  a Riksdag  immediately,  and  I presume 
the  first  work  would  be  to  make  peace  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible and  upon  any  conditions.” 

Benzelius  raged.  “ The  dean  goes  too  far  in  his 
eagerness  for  peace,”  cried  he.  “ Before  we  come  to 
that  it  will  be  necessary  to  have  a king.” 

“ Or  a queen!” 

“ At  all  events,  freedom!” 

“We  have  sufficiently  proved  the  monarchy,  and 
will  have  nothing  farther  to  do  with  Turkish  pashaws!” 

“ They  have  trampled  us  under  foot!” 

“ Plundered  us,  and  drawn  our  blood  for  foreign 
phantoms  of  kings!” 

“ All  for  Poland!  Nothing  for  Sweden!” 

“ Footstool  for  a Moloch!” 

“ Victim,  slave  for  a Dschingiskhan!” 

“ Hecatomb  to  a Fury!” 

“ Shall  we  submit  to  Ahab’s  tyranny  and  Saul’s 
madness  ?” 

“ Never!  Gentlemen,  let  us  immediately  write  out 
a plan  for  a new  form  of  government!” 

“ Reinstate  the  privileges  of  the  orders!” 

“ Revise  the  Reduction  ! ” 

“ Purify  the  civil  service  ! ” 

“ Reduce  the  army  ! ” 

“Abolish  the  taxes  ! ” 

S 


274 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“ Gentlemen,  the  plan  is  already  written  out,”  burst 
forth  Leijonmarck  with  eager  zeal,  and,  taking  from  a 
secret  press  thick  bundles  of  papers,  he  began  to  read 
aloud  his  plan,  which  he  had  long  before  elaborated 
and  which  was  of  essentially  the  same  tendency  as  that 
which  five  years  later  became  the  constitution  of  the 
government,  excepting  that  it  was  evidently  more  radi- 
cal, showing  that  he  was  a man  of  the  future.  He  was 
from  time  to  time  interrupted  by  the  vociferous  ap- 
plause or  disapprobation  of  the  others.  The  company 
was  in  a state  of  indescribable  rapture.  Even  the  cler- 
ical gentlemen  did  not  themselves  notice  how  deeply 
they  had  peeped  into  the  ale -mug,  kept  constantly 
refilled. 

Torsten  Bertelskold  alone  was  outwardly  cool  and 
calm,  but  he  continued  artfully  to  blow  the  kindling 
fire. 

They  were  just  debating  in  the  gayest  mood  the 
curtailment  of  the  power  of  the  king  and  the  possibility 
of  a republic  after  the  Polish  pattern,  when  a snowy 
runner  entered  unannounced  and  handed  Bertelskold 
a billet.  The  seal  was  Horn’s.  The  master’s  pupil 
could  not  conceal  a sudden  pallor.  All  present  noticed 
it,  and  the  noise  in  the  room  ceased. 

“ Gentlemen,”  said  Bertelskold,  in  vain  trying  to 
regain  his  usual  mocking  tone,  “ our  apprehensions 
were  fortunately  ungrounded.  Count  Horn  advises 
me  that  a new  courier  arrived  two  hours  later  than  the 
former  one,  bringing  the  joyful  news  that  his  majesty, 
our  most  gracious  king,  the  eleventh  of  November,  at 
one  o’clock  in  the  morning,  in  most  excellent  health, 
reached  Stralsund.” 

The  gentlemen  looked  at  each  other  very  devoutly. 
There  was  an  end  of  new  plans  of  government,  an  end 
of  revisions,  purifications,  privileges,  of  Ahab,  Saul, 
Moloch  and  Dschingiskhan,  an  end  of  the  “ mice  who 
play  when  the  cat’s  away.”  Leijonmarck  quite  silently 
smuggled  his  thick  project  into  the  stove;  it  blazed  up 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME . 


275 


and  was  consumed  ! Soon  everything  kindly  adjusted 
itself  to  circumstances.  The  shadow  of  a great  name 
had  struck  them  with  consternation. 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  MEETING  AT  STRALSUND. 

NE  beautiful  summer  morning  near  the  end  of 


\j  July,  1715,  a little  Swedish  schooner  sailed 
into  the  harbor  at  Stralsund.  To  judge  by  the  broken 
oars,  the  riddled  sails,  and  the  shrouds  hanging  loose, 
the  vessel  had  either  encountered  a severe  storm  or 
had,  in  the  extremest  peril,  barely  escaped  from  hostile 
balls.  The  latter  was  the  fact.  Tordenskjold’s  and 
Schested’s  Danish  fleet  cruised  extensively  in  these  wa- 
ters, and  the  attempt  to  smuggle  through  in  the  darkness 
of  the  short  summer  night  had  well-nigh  cost  the  bold 
sailor  dear.  He  had  undauntedly  exchanged  shots  with 
two  or  three  Danish  frigates,  and  had  finally  succeeded, 
near  the  shore  of  Rligen,  in  reaching  shallower  water, 
where  the  great  ships  could  not  follow  him.  He  was 
now  saved,  and  greeted  the  fort  heartily  with  a Swedish 
salutation,  as  two  pillars  of  smoke,  followed  by  flashes 
and  reports,  streamed  out  of  his  bow. 

A delicate,  pale  gentleman,  dressed  in  a sable  cloak, 
although  the  sharp  sea-breeze  had  long  since  resigned 
its  power  to  the  warmer  land-breeze,  appeared  on  the 
after-deck  and  looked  with  a spy-glass  into  the  gaping 
muzzles  of  the  cannon.  He  turned  about  to  ask  the 
commander  some  questions,  and  a lively  surprise  pic- 
tured itself  on  his  face,  usually  so  cold,  as  he  saw  just 
behind  him  the  slim  figure  of  an  uncommonly  beautiful 


276 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


woman,  who,  with  the  same  curiosity  as  himself,  con- 
templated the  fortifications. 

“ Do  I see  aright  ? Madame  Rhenfelt  here  without 
my  suspecting  in  what  agreeable  company  I had  crossed 
over  from  Ystad  ! ” exclaimed  the  fine  gentleman  in  the 
sable  dress. 

“ That  comes  from  the  fact  that  Count  Torsten 
kept  his  stateroom  during  the  whole  voyage,”  replied 
Eva  Rhenfelt  rather  spitefully,  as  she  continued  look- 
ing at  the  fort.  “ Not  even  the  affair  with  the  Danes 
was  sufficient  to  awake  the  count  out  of  his  stoical 
calm.” 

“ What  would  you  have  a man  do,  beautiful  Eva  ? ” 
observed  Bertelskold,  annoyed,  for  it  was  difficult  for 
him  to  present  the  true  reason,  which  was  not  coward- 
ice, but  sea-sickness;  “ to  have  exposed  myself  to  your 
brilliant  sally  and  at  the  same  time  to  the  Danish  can- 
non, would  have  been  to  put  myself  between  two  fires. 
But  allow  me  to  ask  what  procures  Stralsund  the  good 
fortune  of  receiving  so  formidable  a reinforcement 
within  its  walls  ? I wager  that  Madame  Rhenfelt  aspires 
to  nothing  less  than  to  become  Sweden’s  Joan  of 
Arc.” 

“ And  what  induces  the  count,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  to  take  the  field  against  the  enemies  of  his 
country,  and  in  such  an  unheard-of  manner  expose 
Sweden’s  diplomatic  future?” 

“ A small  matter,  an  errand  from  the  council,  which 
has  every  prospect  of  success  since  I have  my  gracious 
war  councillor  as  an  ally.  I shall  call  his  majesty’s 
attention  to  the  fact  that  Stralsund  is  now  out  of  all 
danger.  It  is  only  necessary  to  use  your  sallies  of  wit 
for  palisades  about  the  fort;  the  Danes  and  Prussians 
would  undoubtedly  impale  themselves  upon  them.  . . 

. . Eh  bien , shall  we  make  peace  ?” 

“ When  diplomats  say  peace  they  mean  war.  I ac- 
cept the  declaration  of  war.” 

“ Hear  me,  Eva;  let  us  make  the  enormous  sacrifice 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME . 


277 


of  tolerating  each  other.  In  spite  of  all  our  enmity,  I 
am  your  friend  more  than  you  believe.  You  are  a wo- 
man with  a head ” 

“ Oh,  sir  count,  you  begin  to  flatter  ! It  is  true, 
your  position  is  critical,  you  need  influence  with  his 
majesty,  but  you  should  rather  turn,  to  some  one  who 
can  serve  you  better.” 

“ Be  done  with  your  word-thrusts;  you  see  that  I 
am  steeled  against  them.  When  I say  that  you  are  a 
woman  with  a head,  I pay  you  the  highest  compliment 
that  a man  can  pay  a woman ” 

“You  mistake;  he  pays  a higher  compliment  who 
calls  her  a woman  with  a heart.” 

“ Please  to  hear  me  through.  You  are  something 
rarer,  you  are  a woman  of  character.  I pray  you,  do 
not  interrupt  me;  why  should.  I flatter  you?  I know 
that  you  hate  me.  Well,  hate  me,  if  it  please  you,  but 
let  us  make  an  alliance,  for  we  can  injure  each  other  as 
enemies,  but  we  can  be  of  advantage  to  each  other  as 
friends.  Fate  has  brought  us  together  on  a narrow 
plank,  which  might  easily  be  hit  by  a single  ball.  The 
time  is  limited.  I embrace  the  opportunity  and  renew 
my  suit  for  your  hand.” 

“ Although  we  hate  each  other  ? ” 

“ I respect  you  and  you  fear  me.  That  is  all  that  is 
necessary.” 

“You  are  mistaken.  I neither  fear  you  nor  need 
you.” 

“You  are  independent  and  bold:  two  qualities 
which  will  lead  you  to  the  highest  renown  or  to  a sud- 
den fall,  according  as  you  use  them.  Weigh  well  your 
decision,  weigh  it  calmly  and  wisely,  as  you  can  if  you 
will.  Weigh  it  wisely,  and  you  will  find  that  the  princess 
will  one  day  be  queen,  and  by  my  side  you  will  be  capa- 
ble of  everything.  But  if  you  bind  yourself  to  the  pres- 
ent order  of  things,  which  depends  on  every  Danish 
cannoneer’s  ball,  and  scorn  an  alliance  with  me,  you 
will  soon  seek  your  country-seat  in  Smaland’s  remote 


278 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


forests,  for  the  world  will  have  forgotten  the  existence 
of  Eva  Rhenfelt.” 

“ Have  you  done  now  ?” 

“ Not  yet.  There  is  found  in  you  a third  quality, 
which  thwarts,  as  I know,  all  the  decisions  of  your  judg- 
ment. You  are  slightly  visionary,  my  grace;  you  are 
in  a certain  way  entitled  to  be  so,  for  all  Swedish  peo- 
ple and  especially  the  female  portion  of  them  have  now 
for  fifteen  whole  years  exalted  the  same  person  and  the 
same  follies.  You  see  where  it  has  led,  and  the  result 
will  be  the  same  to  you.  Continue  to  exalt  Charles 
XII,  and  you  throw  aside  the  reality  and  the  position 
you  have  inherited,  to  chase  after  dreams  and  phan- 
toms and  air-castles, — an  honor  which  at  the  last  goes 
in  rags,  a greatness  that  would  not  awe  a chambermaid. 
As  for  your  romantic  fancy  for  my  brother  . . 

“ By  what  right,  sir  count  . . . ?” 

“ Be  calm,  I pray  you;  I know  it  is  a sensitive  string, 
but  it  is  well  to  tune  the  instrument  at  once,  that  there 
may  hereafter  be  no  discord  in  our  duet,  my  grace. 
Therefore,  regarding  your  little  romantic  fancy  for  my 
brother,  I ought  to  tell  you  that  it  does  not  frighten  me 
in  the  least.  Your  inclination  is  quite  natural.  Gosta 
has  bravery,  and  the  original  in  Stralsund  casts  a little 
reflection  on  the  copy  in  Lapland;  his  achievements  no 
longer  find  place  in  any  other  part  of  Europe.  But 
voyez-vous , if  your  inclination  is  possible  and  compre- 
hensible, his  is  in  a greater  degree  impossible  and  in- 
comprehensible. I will  wager  Drottningholm  castle 
against  a Finnish  smoke-house  that  Gosta,  ever  since 
he  went  away,  has  been  so  absorbed  in  contemplating 
the  art  of  killing  Cossacks  that  he  has  not  had  a single 
minute  left  for  you,  beautiful  Eva  . . .” 

“ You  believe  that,”  said  Eva  Rhenfelt  mockingly, 
at  the  same  time  showing  Bertelskold  a letter,  in  whose 
superscription,  stiff  and  resembling  fire-hooks,  he  recog- 
nized the  hand  of  his  brother  Gosta. 

“It  is  all  the  same  to  me,”  replied  the  count, 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME. 


279 


haughtily.  “ I have  finished  now  and  desire  your 
answer.” 

In  the  meantime  the  schooner  had  neared  the  out- 
works of  the  harbor  and  had  cleared  anchor.  The 
young  widow  seemed  so  interested  in  looking  at  the 
fortress  that  she  had  no  attention  left  for  her  neighbor 
on  the  deck.  Accidentally  she  let  her  sachel  fall. 
The  gallant  Count  Torsten  took  it  up  and  reached  it  to 
her  without  especial  thought. 

“ Give  me  the  contents  and  you  can  retain  the 
rest,”  said  Eva  Rhenfelt  carelessly,  and  continued  her 
scrutiny  of  the  fortress. 

Bertelskold  now  for  the  first  time  noticed  that  the 
sachel  was  of  green  morocco  and  plaited  in  the  form  of 
a basket.*  “ This  is  then  your  answer  ? ” asked  he,  biting 
his  lips. 

“ Do  you  see,”  continued  Madame  Rhenfelt,  with 
the  spy-glass  at  her  eyes  and  without  appearing  to  hear 
him;  “ do  you  see  the  Danish  and  Prussian  mortars 
throwing  bombs  into  Stralsund  ? It  will  be  dangerous 
for  you,  Count  Torsten,  to  meet  them  with  pen  against 
sword  and  ink-horn  against  shield.  But  it  will  be  more 
fearful  to  meet  him  over  there,  whose  penetrating  glance 
can  see  through  you  more  easily  than  you  think.  You 
talk  continually  of  your  wise  calculations.  How  can  you 
explain  by  them  that  this  king,  who  returns  defeated, 
destitute,  with  scarcely  a single  follower,  with  half  of 
Europe  against  him,  and  who  comes  to  a kingdom  still 
poorer,  still  more  destitute  than  himself — how  will  you 
explain,  that  merely  the  certainty  of  his  return,  merely 
the  sight  of  his  blue  coat  with  its  yellow  belt,  as  if  by 
enchantment  equips  every  wall  with  cannons,  every  sea 
with  fleets; — stamps  new  armies  from  the  earth,  steels 
every  arm,  animates  every  heart,  and  if  it  were  possi- 
ble would  call  the  slain  themselves  from  their  bloody 
graves  ? Two  kings  beleaguer  him  here  with  far  su- 

* u To  give  the  basket”  is  a Swedish  phrase  equivalent  to  “ give  the  mit- 
ten ” in  America. — Translator. 


28b 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


perior  forces;  according  to  all  calculations  Stralsund 
should  have  already  fallen.  Explain  to  me  why  every- 
thing stands  as  long  as  he  stands,  and  all  hope  as  long 
as  he  lives;  and  why  does  the  world,  which  in  every 
other  instance  gauges  its  praise  by  success,  for  this  sin- 
gle mortal  make  an  exception,  and  admire  him,  if  pos- 
sible, more  in  the  days  of  his  adversity  than  in  the  days 
of  his  good  fortune  ? Count  Torsten,  you  are  a subtle 
reckoner;  you  add  and  you  subtract  only  the  small  fig- 
ures in  humanity  and  thereby  obtain  but  small  results; 
but  you  forget  that  a single  large  figure  can  outweigh 
numberless  small  ones  and  change  the  result  beyond  all 
your  calculations.  Let  us  be  honest;  I do  not  like  lit- 
tle souls  in  great  minds,  and  you,  Count  Torsten,  are 
without  doubt  too  great  a diplomat  to  further  honor 
so  poor  a reckoner  as  I with  any  attention  . . . The 
anchor  has  fallen,  the  die  is  cast.  Your  servant,  my 
count!” 

“ Well,  then,”  exclaimed  Torsten  Bertelskold  bit- 
terly, “you  have  said  it,  arrogant  woman,  the  die  is 
cast;  you  will  play  war,  and  you  shall  have  war, — but 
it  shall  be  for  life  and  death.  Farewell.” 


CHAPTER  XI. 


AN  AUDIENCE  WITH  CHARLES  XII. 


i HREE  or  four  days  had  passed  since  the  secre- 


I tary  of  legation,  Count  Torsten  Bertelskold,  sent 
by  the  council  at  Stockholm  with  an  important  mes- 
sage to  the  king,  had  arrived  at  Stralsund;  and  yet  he 
had  not  succeeded  in  obtaining  an  audience.  Now  his 
majesty  was  away  at  Rligen,  now  he  was  engaged  in 
some  affair  with  the  enemy,  now  closeted  with  Count 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


281 


Gortz.  It  seemed  as  if  the  king  purposely  permitted 
the  humiliation  of  the  council  in  the  person  of  the  am- 
bassador, or  else  that  he  mistrusted,  not  without  rea- 
son, that  the  messenger  in  addition  to  his  official  com- 
mission had  private  orders  from  Count  Horn  to  spy  out 
the  situation,  apprize  himself  of  the  king’s  designs,  find 
out  the  character  of  Gortz,  and  undermine  him,  who  had 
suddenly  grown  above  the  heads  of  all  of  them. 

Bertelskold  went  to  General  Duker.  “ Well,  what 
would  you  have  done  ?”  answered  Duker,  not  entirely 
devoid  of  ill-nature.  “ Go  with  me  this  afternoon  to 
the  intrenchments  at  Frankenport;  there  may  be  some 
leisure  between  the  bombs.  That  is  the  way  diplomats 
usually  speak  with  Charles  XII.” 

In  the  meantime  we  leave  for  a moment  the  cour- 
tier and  go  with  Eva  Rhenfelt,  who  has  thus  far  been 
equally  unsuccessful  in  obtaining  an  audience.  No  one 
of  the  staff  would  venture  to  introduce  her;  everybody 
knew  that  the  northern  lion  regarded  beautiful  ladies 
as  quite  superfluous  in  a camp  ora  fortress;  and  when 
an  Aurora  Konigsmark  had  made  so  conspicuous  a fail- 
ure, the  rest  of  her  sex  had  every  prospect  of  sharing 
her  fate. 

Yet  there  was  probably  found  some  one  among 
those  about  the  king,  who,  more  chivalric  or  less  devoid 
of  sentiment  than  he,  had  given  the  handsome  widow  a 
hint;  for  the  same  day  that  Bertelskold  visited  Duker, 
Madame  Rhenfelt  was  also  seen  on  foot, — for  all  the 
carriages  were  confiscated  for  war  uses, — walking  to- 
ward Frankenport.  The  nearer  she  approached  the  walls 
the  louder  sounded  the  din  of  the  hostile  bombardment; 
the  wounded  were  borne  on  barrows  from  the  outworks, 
baggage  vans  blocked  up  the  streets,  the  wives  of  citizens 
returned  with  empty  provision  baskets  from  their  hus- 
bands on  the  walls,  and  everything  showed  the  dis- 
turbed and  stormy  life  of  a beleagured  fortress. 

Eva  Rhenfelt  did  not  allow  herself  to  be  frightened. 
She  passed  the  gate  and  pretended  not  to  hear  the  gate- 
12* 


282 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


keeper’s  warning  not  to  approach  within  range  of  the 
enemy.  Perhaps  her  woman’s  heart  beat  a little 
harder,  when,  not  far  from  her,  a piece  of  a shell  splin- 
tered the  wall  of  a house  already  shot  in  pieces,  or 
when  fresh  traces  of  blood  were  seen  upon  the  ground 
beside  her  feet;  but  she  went  on.  Riders  galloping  in 
haste  met  her  and  signed  to  her  that  she  must  turn 
about;  single  sections  of  troops  hastening  by  her  threw 
themselves  on  the  ground  whenever  they  detected  a 
small  smoking  stream  in  the  air  above  their  heads. 
Twice  the  courageous  wanderer  had  to  follow  their  ex- 
ample; she  went  down,  the  flying  wonder  burst  and  its 
fragments  showered  about  her.  But  she  continued  her 
walk  without  heeding  the  shouts  of  warning. 

Finally  she  reached  the  indicated  fortification.  It 
was  called  Carolus,  was  mounted  with  fourteen  can- 
nons, and  was  one  of  the  most  important  outworks  at 
Frankenport.  The  Swedish  banner  of  blue  and  gold 
fluttered  upon  its  walls,  shot  to  rags,  but  proud  and 
elevated  yet,  like  the  indomitable  hero  who  command- 
ed the  fortification. 

Trembling,  not  for  the  danger,  but  from  the  mighty 
spirit  within  that  defied  danger,  Eva  Rhenfelt  entered 
within  the  fortification.  No  one  prevented  her,  no  one 
seemed  to  notice  her.  Had  any  one  time  for  that? 
The  Saxons,  who  perhaps  suspected  the  king’s  pres- 
ence, had  the  night  before  opened  a new  trench  and 
now  let  about  thirty  pieces  of  all  calibers  play  upon 
Carolus  at  hardly  six  to  seven  hundred  paces  distance. 
The  fire  was  such  that  it  could  well  have  affrighted 
those  of  stronger  nerves  than  the  young  widow.  Nearly 
every  second  a ball  bored  into  the  earth-wall  and  cov- 
ered those  near  by  with  sand,  or  a cannon  in  the  em- 
brasures was  dismounted,  or  a bomb  fell  at  the  side  of 
the  wall,  exploded  and  made  deep  furrows  in  the 
sandy  ground.  Most  of  the  Swedish  guns  were  already 
dismounted,  but  new  carriages  were  held  in  readiness, 
and  seven  of  the  iron  mouths  were  yet  in  condition  to 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A HA  ME. 


283 


reply  to  the  enemy’s  speech.  Four  or  five  persons,  just 
shot,  whom  no  one  had  time  to  get  out  of  the  way,  lay 
there  without  arms  and  legs.  At  least  twenty  wounded 
and  bleeding  sought  to  slip  out  of  the  fortification. 
Eva  noticed  them;  no  one  complained,  they  were  only 
heard  to  express  a fear  that  the  king  might  meet  the 
same  fate.  Four  men  had  lifted  one  of  the  king’s  ad- 
jutants, just  wounded  at  his  side,  upon  a hand-barrow, 
and  a surgeon  had  completed  the  first  dressing.  No 
one  paid  the  wounded  man  any  attention.  All  in  the 
fort,  who  had  arms  and  legs — and  there  may  have  been 
two  or  three  hundred  men — worked  so  that  the  sweat  ran 
down  their  burnt  cheeks;  carrying  balls  and  powder- 
boxes,  loading,  sighting,  firing,  and  repairing  those 
parts  of  the  earth-wall  which  were  continually  broken 
down  by  the  enemy’s  fire.  Add  to  this  that  the  whole 
fort  was  enveloped  in  thick  smoke  and  the  noise  was  so 
great  that  the  earth  shook,  and  one  can  picture  to  him- 
self the  scene  that  met  the  courageous  woman  when  she 
entered  Fort  Carolus,  to  attempt  to  procure  an  audi- 
ence which  could  not  be  obtained  in  any  less  danger- 
ous situation. 

Nevertheless  she  went  in.  Something  stirred  deep- 
ly her  beating  heart.  Was  it  the  peculiar  grandeur  of 
the  situation,  or  was  it  the  proximity  of  a still  stronger 
spirit  which  was  master  of  the  situation  and  of  her  ? She 
did  not  know,  but  she  felt  herself  grow  to  a level  with 
the  danger.  The  circumstances  seemed  to  be  entirely 
appropriate;  an  audience  with  Charles  XII  could  not 
be  otherwise. 

“ Out  of  the  way,  woman!”  cried  the  rough  voice  of 
an  artillerist  who  hastily  pushed  before  him  a hand-cart 
of  powder  boxes,  and  at  the  same  time  Eva  felt  the 
wheel  go  over  her  delicate  foot.  A cry  of  pain  was 
about  to  escape  her,  but  she  suppressed  it.  “ Where  is 
the  king?”  she  asked. 

“ Where  else  than  there  by  the  Saxon  brooch  ?”  re- 
plied the  man.  He  had  not  even  time  to  wonder  that 


284 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


there  was  such  a guest  in  Fort  Carolus.  By  his  brogue 
Eva  at  once  knew  him  to  be  a Finn.  Finnish  soldiers 
were  at  that  time  found  everywhere  except  where  they 
were  most  needed — in  Finland. 

The  wanderer  approached  the  Saxon  brooch;  this 
was  the  largest  cannon  in  the  fort  and  the  one  that  was 
most  exposed  to  the  enemy’s  fire,  for  which  reason  it 
had  already  been  twice  dismounted.  Probably  this 
was  also  the  reason  why  King  Charles  had  his  head- 
quarters by  it. 

The  smoke  was  so  thick  that  Eva  was  within  seven 
or  eight  steps  of  the  king  when  she  saw  and  recognized 
him.  He  stood  upon  a gun  carriage  which  had  been 
shot  in  two,  leaning  with  his  left  arm  upon  the  breast- 
work and  so  high  that  his  head  and  shoulders  had  no 
protection  against  the  balls.  In  his  right  hand  he  held 
a spy-glass,  with  which  he  seemed  attentively  to  ob- 
serve the  Saxon  batteries  opposite.  On  the  parapet  be- 
low him  stood  the  French  ambassador,  General  Croissy, 
the  favorite  Grothusen,  his  traveling  companion  from 
Turkey,  Otto  Frederick  During,  and  also  Generals 
Bassewitz  and  Dahldorf,  all  brave  men,  four  of  whom 
fate  had  determined  should  not  leave  Stralsund  alive. 
A little  distance  from  them  General  Diiker  was  in  con- 
versation with  Torsten  Bertelskold.  The  elegant  dip- 
lomat seemed  evidently  embarrassed;  he  was  unac- 
customed to  such  audiences. 

Eva  Rhenfelt,  silently  and  with  wonderful  courage, 
waited  to  be  noticed.  But  no  one  looked  at  her.  The 
balls  continued  their  wild  sport  around  her  and  cov- 
ered her  with  sand. 

At  that  moment  a whistling  shell  exploded  in  the 
earth-wall  so  near  the  king’s  side  that  he  at  once  dis- 
appeared in  a cloud  of  smoke  and  dust.  The  generals 
started,  the  diplomats  forgot  to  smile,  Eva  Rhenfelt  ex- 
perienced a sensation  as  though  a ball  had  pierced  her 
heart.  But  the  next  moment  they  saw  the  king  step 
down  from  the  carriage;  he  had  only  lost  his  hat. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


285 


“ That  fellow  did  not  shoot  so  badly!”  exclaimed  the 
king.  “ Dahldorf,  tell  the  boys  there  at  number  two 
that  they  are  shooting  too  high.  During,  mount  and 
take  some  men  with  you  and  clear  the  wheat  field  to 
the  right ; their  creeping  shooters  make  us  trouble. 
Wait;  it  is  better  that  I go  myself.” 

“ If  your  majesty  rides  out  the  dogs  will  take  it  for 
a flight,”  answered  During  craftily,  for  he  regarded  it 
very  imprudent  to  let  his  master  ride  into  a wheat-field 
filled  with  hostile  musketeers. 

“ Then  I will  remain,”  said  the  king,  smiling  gayly. 
“ I think  we  will  keep  on  till  evening,  and  repair  the 
walls  during  the  night.  Here,  some  one,  see  if  you  can 
find  my  hat.” 

Croissy,  French  in  everything,  offered  him  his,  but 
it  was  refused  with  a smile.  The  hat  was  found  on  a 
projecting  part  of  the  breastwork,  and  two  of  the  near- 
est artillerists  clambered  down  the  outside  to  get  it. 
But  before  they  succeeded  one  of  them  had  a leg  shot 
away  and  grasped  convulsively  at  the  casing  that  he 
might  not  fall.  The  other,  trying  to  assist  him,  lost  his 
foothold  and  fell  to  the  bottom. 

The  king  was  displeased.  “ Help,  you  man  there!” 
shouted  he,  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  Bertelskold,  who 
could  not  endure  his  look,  but,  perhaps  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  cast  down  his  eyes. 

Grothusen  and  Bassewitz  jumped  to  the  breast- 
work and  with  the  greatest  difficulty  hauled  up  the 
wounded  man  just  as  he  was  about  to  lose  his  hold.  It 
was  not  the  custom  of  Charles  XII  to  spare  his  favor- 
ites any  more  than  himself. 

“Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  want?”  he  asked 
sharply,  after  he  had  finished  his  short  survey  of  Bertel- 
skold’s  person. 

The  count,  naturally  bold,  had  soon  regained  his 
countenance  and  began  most  humbly  to  set  forth  his 
errand  in  regard  to  the  impossibility  of  collecting  the 
new  war  tax,  and  a petition  for  delay  in  the  arbitrary 


286 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


price  of  the  new  copper  coin — one  of  Baron  Gortz’ gold 
mines. 

The  king  broke  him  off  short.  “ I know  what  you 
would  say.  Tell  the  council  with  my  compliments  that 
the  Danes  and  Saxons  question  us  with  iron;  we  must 
answer  them  with  steel.  Are  you  not  Count  Horn’s 
private  secretary  ?” 

“ I am  ordered  by  the  council  to  serve  with  his  ex- 
cellence . . .” 

“ The  council  orders  much  that  we  shall  hereafter 
more  carefully  inquire  into.  Your  master  has  become 
a head  higher  since  we  last  met.” 

Bertelskold  was  silent.  He  saw  that  the  well-known 
storm-boding  flush  mounted  to  King  Charles’  face,  and 
that  his  upper  lip  once  or  twice  involuntarily  curled. 
Sufficient  reason  for  a prudent  man  to  be  silent.  The 
king  turned  his  back  upon  him  and  started  to  give  fur- 
ther orders. 

But  with  this  he  caught  his  right  spur  in  Eva  Rhen- 
felt’s  dress,  drew  away  his  foot  and  tore  off  a piece  of  a 
fold.  “ What  do  you  want  here  ?”  exclaimed  he,  at  the 
unexpected  sight  of  a lady  in  black  velvet  in  the  midst 
of  powder-smoke  and  the  dead. 

Eva  Rhenfelt  comprehended  the  importance  of  this 
decisive  moment,  bent  a knee  quickly  and  replied: 
“ Your  majesty,  help  for  Finland!” 

The  king  started  back.  “ What  have  you  to  say  to 
me?  Speak!” 

“ Your  majesty,  I arraign  the  council  and  appeal  to 
your  royal  grace.  The  council  promised  immediately 
after  the  disaster  at  Storkyro  to  send  Finland  help,  but 
instead  left  General  Armfelt  without  support  and  he 
was  compelled  to  retreat  to  Westerbotten.  His  farthest 
advance  guard  is  now  at  Kemi;  the  whole  country  is  in 
the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and  only  in  Kajana  castle  are  the 
last  remains  of  Finland’s  defenders  maintained.  Your 
majesty,  you  are  great  and  high-minded;  Finland  has 
bled  for  your  royal  house  and  still  bleeds  in  all  your 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


287 


battles.  Save  Finland!  Send  it  an  army,  or  only  send 
it  again  its  own  soldiers,  and  they  will  win  back  for  you 
one  of  the  most  precious  jewels  of  your  crown!” 

With  these  words  a new  bomb  exploded  but  a few 
steps  from  the  speaker;  two  men  were  killed  at  her  side, 
and  the  blood  spattered  her  black  velvet  dress.  But 
she  did  not  stir. 

Charles  XII  beheld  her  almost  with  admiration.  A 
kind  smile  passed  over  his  stern  lips,  he  reached  her  his 
hand  and  said:  “ Arise!  It  gladdens  me  that  a Swedish 
woman  does  not  fear.” 

“ Who  has  told  you  to  speak  to  me  of  Finland  ?”  he 
asked  again,  with  a kind  look. 

“ One  who  had  the  honor  of  fighting  under  your 
majesty’s  banner  from  Narva  to  Pultowa,  and  who  has 
sworn  to  fight  to  the  last  for  his  birth-place — Major 
Gustaf  Bertelskold,  at  present  in  Kajana  castle.” 

“ My  valiant  bear-clubber!  Brave  fellow!  Greet 
him  for  me  and  tell  him  to  hold  out  as  long  as  he  can. 
If  God  wills  and  I live,  Finland  shall  not  be  given  up; 
only  we  must  first  rid  ourselves  of  these  Danes  and 
Saxons.  For  the  present  we  have  all  that  we  can  do. 
Farewell.  You  are  not  afraid,  but  return  now  to  the 
city;  it  is  too  rough  for  you  here.  Colonel  Wolfrath, 
escort  the  lady!” 

“ 1 shall  remind  your  majesty  of  his  promise,”  said 
Eva  Rhenfelt,  and  pressed  to  her  lips  the  king’s  hard, 
unwilling  hand. 


288 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A VISIT  TO  FINLAND  IN  1 7 15. 

ONE  evening  in  October,  1715,  the  early  twilight  had 
already  lowered  its  curtain  over  Bjorko,  in  Wasa  Ar- 
chipelago, when  a Dutch  trading  vessel  quite  cautious- 
ly sailed  into  one  of  those  numberless  secret  coves 
which  nature  seems  to  have  created  here  as  the  especial 
haunt  of  smugglers.  Her  sails  were  blue,  that  they 
might  form  no  contrast  with  the  color  of  the  waves;  she 
bore  no  flag;  she  fired  no  signal  gun;  all  was  so  still 
on  board  that,  in  the  twilight,  the  trader  looked  more 
like  a sea-eagle  which,  with  black  wings  outspread, 
sails  along  a desolate  strand  to  steal  down  upon  its  prey 
among  the  cliffs,  than  like  a vessel  boldly  and  gayly  en- 
tering the  longed-for  harbor.  Equally  silent  was  it  on 
the  stony  shore  of  the  island  grown  up  with  alders;  only 
here  and  there  could  be  seen  a half  ruined  cottage,  and 
behind  its  corners  a timid  human  being  who  with  rest- 
less curiosity  watched  the  boat,  uncertain  whether  to 
expect  a friend  or  fear  an  enemy. 

The  trader  cast  anchor  as  silently  as  she  had  come  ; 
a boat  pushed  off  from  her  side  and  rowed  cautiously  to 
the  shore  near  by,  after  which  three  or  four  well-armed 
men  stepped  ashore  and  approached  one  of  the  cot- 
tages. At  their  coming  there  was  a stir  among  the 
occupants  of  the  cottage  ; women  and  old  men  were 
seen  hastening  to  the  woods,  followed  by  crying  chil- 
dren ; and  those  who  from  age  or  infirmity  were 
unable  to  get  away  in  time,  sought  with  anxious  haste 
to  hide  themselves  behind  the  stones.  In  vain  the  new- 
comers called  to  them  to  remain  ; the  fugitives  did  not 
stop  ; a panic  of  fright  had  seized  them. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


289 


The  strangers  went  into  the  hut ; the  fire  was  still 
burning  on  the  hearth  ; the  kettle,  with  the  evening’s 
frugal  pudding,  black  with  bark-meal,  was  still  upon 
the  fire  ; the  torn  fish-nets  which  they  were  just  mend- 
ing lay  spread  out  on  the  floor  ; the  miserable  bed  was 
yet  warm — probably  some  invalid  had  been  snatched 
from  his  rest ; even  the  unpainted  cradle,  with  its 
wretched  rags,  showed  signs  of  having  been  quite  lately 
inhabited  ; but  no  living  being  was  seen,  excepting  that 
a black  cat  had  leisurely  taken  a place  in  the  empty 
bed,  and,  snarling,  crooked  her  back  at  the  entrance  of 
the  unbidden  guests. 

“ Stupid  folks ! ” angrily  exclaimed  the  leader  of 
the  sailors,  in  Dutch.  “ Stupid  folks  ! Here  a man 
risks  his  vessel  and  his  life  to  help  them  with  a little 
salt,  and  they  run  away  to  the  woods  like  mad  hens.” 

“ Let  us  warm  ourselves  a moment  by  the  fire,  cap- 
tain,” said  one  of  his  companions.  “ They  take  us  for 
enemies  ; that  is  a proof  that  no  enemies  are  in  the 
neighborhood.  The  schooner  is  safe,  and  after  a while 
the  folks  will  come  back.” 

“ Mist  and  mizzen  ! Something  is  stirring  under 
the  bed,”  exclaimed  the  captain.  “ Halloo — out  with 
you,  dog  or  cat ! Out  with  you  ! ” 

With  these  words  he  thrust  his  hand  under  the  bed 
and  drew  out  a struggling  and  shrieking  figure,  which 
on  close  inspection  was  found  to  be  a white-haired  boy, 
quite  crazed  with  fright. 

“ The  devil  take  the  beast  ! ” exclaimed  the  cap- 
tain, flinging  the  boy  quickly  from  him  ; “ you  bite  my 
hand  ? Get  away,  you  scalawag  ! ” 

In  fact,  four  bleeding  wounds  in  the  seaman’s  hard 
fist  showed  that  the  little  savage  had  defended  himself 
with  the  only  weapon  nature  had  provided.  But  the 
captain  was  a good-natured  man,  and  his  wrath  did 
not  last  till  the  blood  dried.  “ Hang  such  folks  as 
these  Finnish  crabs ! ” laughed  he,  wiping  his  hand  on 
his  pitchy  coat  sleeve.  “ It  must  have  gone  hard  in 
T 13 


290 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


these  days,  when  even  the  children  learn  to  bite  like 
cats.” 

The  boy  continued  his  wild  cries.  “ Will  you  be 
still,  you  devilkin!  ” roared  the  skipper,  laughing  again, 
and  he  took  out  a white  sea-biscuit  of  wheat  flour  and 
held  it  before  the  boy’s  eyes.  “ Tell  us  where  your 
father  and  mother  are  and  you  shall  have  the  biscuit ! ” 
he  added  in  a friendly  tone,  and  in  Swedish,  for  the 
Bjorko  people  are  of  that  tongue. 

The  boy  seized  the  biscuit  with  a quick  motion  and 
conveyed  it  to  his  mouth.  He  devoured  it  with  his 
eyes,  his  lips  touched  it  convulsively ; but  he  did  not 
bite  it,  he  crushed  it  in  pieces  between  his  fingers,  saw 
with  dazed  eyes  the  crumbs  fall  to  the  floor,  but  said 
not  a word. 

“ Plague  on  such  folks  ! ” cried  the  skipper.  “ Look 
at  him  ! I venture  that  it  is  a good  while  since  he 
has  eaten  pure  bread,  and  yet  he  lets  no  fellow  bribe 
him.  Hard  times,  hard  times  indeed,  when  folks 
become  so  obstinate  ! Look  here,  boy  ! one  more  bis- 
cuit— go  out  and  hunt  up  your  father  and  mother  and 
tell  them  that  we  are  good  friends,  who  have  come  to 
them  with  a schooner  loaded  with  salt.” 

The  little  fellow  went  like  a rocket  out  into  the  open 
air.  The  sailor  sat  down  by  the  fire  and  undertook  to 
taste  the  pudding.  It  was  burnt  and  black,  not  fit 
to  eat,  and  had  not  the  least  flavor  of  salt.  Among  the 
little  stock  of  food  was  also  found  a boiled  fowl — one 
that  had  been  shot  with  an  arrow, — and  half  of  a fresh- 
water herring  cooked  on  the  coals  ; all  without  any 
trace  of  salt. 

“ Hard  times ! ” again  repeated  the  sympathizing 
skipper.  “ If  money  were  as  plenty  here  as  salt  is 
scarce  we  would  do  a good  business.” 

A woman  peeped  slyly  in  at  the  door  and  was  soon 
followed  by  several  others.  They  gradually  convinced 
themselves  that  the  strangers  were  peaceable  Dutch  sail- 
ors who  in  the  midst  of  hostile  cruisers  had  ventured  a 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


291 


tour  to  the  poor  North  to  bring  its  only  indispensable 
article  of  import — the  only  article  that  makes  the 
Scandinavians  and  Finns  dependent  upon  foreign 
countries — the  most  precious,  the  most  useful  and  the 
most  wholesome  of  all  seasoning,  and  the  incalculable 
value  of  which  one  can  only  appreciate  when  he  cannot 
get  it — salt  ! 

The  news  was  hardly  known  with  certainty,  before 
an  unusual  and  gladder  stir  arose  among  the  intimi- 
dated inhabitants  of  these  devastated  and  plundered 
islands.  Messengers  were  sent  that  same  evening  in 
boats  to  the  surrounding  islands  to  announce  the 
arrival  of  the  precious  merchandise.  Within  a few 
hours  a mass  of  several  hundred  people  had  assembled, 
nearly  all  old . men,  women  and  children, — for  most  of 
the  men  of  Osterbotten  as  well  as  of  the  whole  king- 
dom had  either  fallen  upon  the  battle-field,  fled  to 
Vesterbotten,  or  had  been  hewed  down  by  the  enemy  or 
carried  into  captivity.  Now,  in  autumn,  a part  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  islands  who  had  fled  to  Vesterbotten 
had  ventured  to  return  to  look  after  their  homes  and 
possibly  take  up  some  of  their  valuables  which  they 
had  buried  in  the  ground.  For  from  the  land  side  they 
had  now  a short  period  of  safety  ; the  hostile  forces, 
eight  thousand  dragoons  and  five  thousand  Cossacks 
under  General  Tschekin  and  General  Bruce,  had  left 
their  camps  in  the  once  rich  but  now  despoiled  dis- 
tricts of  Wasa  and  Storkyro,  farther  north.  The  gal- 
leys, the  scourge  of  the  islands,  had  in  October,  for  the 
most  part,  gone  south,  or  had  followed  the  course  of 
the  army  along  the  coast  in  order  to  be  secure  from 
surprise  in  case  they  should  be  frozen  in  early.  The 
whole  neighborhood  drew  a long  breath,  and  never 
were  the  darkness  and  the  storms  of  autumn  as  wel- 
come as  now  ; — what  indeed  was  the  raging  of  the 
elements  in  comparison  with  the  misfortunes  of  war  ! 

All  that  had  life  and  breath  hastened  hither  to  pro- 
vide themselves  with  salt ; it  had  long  been  bought 


292 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


and  sold  as  a rarity  for  which  one  would  give  the  coat 
from  his  back,  and  a worse  condition  existed  in  the 
interior  and  the  north.  Here  in  the  islands  it  might 
be  measured  by  quarts  and  pints  ; farther  up  it  was 
measured  by  gills;  still  farther  up  it  was  sold  by  spoon- 
fuls, yes,  by  grains  if  that  were  possible;  and  finally  it 
could  not  be  had  for  gold.  Even  here,  where  the 
scarcity  was  not  nearly  so  great,  the  Hollanders  wit- 
nessed a scene  which  awakened  both  sympathy  and 
laughter.  When  a few  grains  of  salt  were  spilt  in  the 
measuring,  the  children  threw  themselves  down  and 
licked  the  ground.  Mothers  gave  to  their  infant  chil- 
dren these  precious  grains,  which  for  them  had  more 
value  than  sugar  in  our  days;  and  the  old,  who  for 
months  had  been  compelled  to  do  without  the  longed- 
for  seasoning,  thought  themselves  now  rich  at  once, 
and  in  their  delight  salted  fish  and  fowl,  bread  and 
whatever  they  ate  with  it,  and  swallowed  it  quickly  with 
a grin  of  satisfaction,  as  if  they  would  salt  themselves 
for  future  times  when  there  should  again  be  a scarcity 
of  the  precious  ware. 

The  trade  began  late  in  the  evening  and  continued 
all  night.  No  one  knew  when  a hostile  galley  might  put 
a frightful  end  to  it  all.  But  what  a trade!  The  salt 
was  carried  ashore,  and  although  there  was  no  lack  of 
willing  buyers,  yet  these  wanted  means  with  which  to  buy. 
If  there  was  found  a copper  coin  or  a silver  dollar  it  was 
a rare  discovery,  lately  hunted  out  of  a pile  of  stones 
by  the  shore  or  from  under  the  roots  of  a pine  in  the 
woods.  The  story  of  treasures  hidden  in  the  earth  has 
now  for  more  than  a hundred  years  haunted  the  tra- 
ditions of  the  people  and  lured  to  the  work  of  digging 
for  treasure  those  who  wished  to  become  rich  in  haste 
and  without  difficulty.  When  the  enemy  overran  the 
country  in  1714  and  everybody  fled  that  could  fly — 
and  fled  so  precipitately  that  the  man  who  had  gone 
bareheaded  to  the  gate  did  not  return  for  his  hat,  and 
the  mother  who  had  gone  to  the  well  for  water  had  no 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME. 


293 


more  than  time  to  call  to  her  children  to  follow  her — 
then  much  valuable  property  that  could  not  be  taken 
away  was  concealed  under  the  first  suitable  stone  or 
tree,  tuft  or  unplowed  ridge,  that  could  serve  as  a sign 
for  after-recognition.  But  many,  nay  the  most  of  those 
who  fled  never  returned,  and  of  the  few  who  did  re- 
turn many  could  not  afterwards  remember  the  place 
where,  in  their  haste,  they  had  concealed  their  proper- 
ty; the  trees  were  cut  down  or  blown  over  by  the  winds, 
the  stones  which  were  to  serve  as  marks  could  not  be 
recognized  among  hundreds  of  similar  ones,  the  tufts 
were  overgrown  with  moss,  the  ridges  had  run  wild  and 
become  overgrown  with  bushes.  On  this  account  it 
was  seldom  that  small  coins  and  other  treasures  that 
were  buried  were  regained,  and  much  has  been 
found  by  unknown  later  generations,  and  much  is  to 
this  day  concealed  in  the  bosom  of  Finnish  soil.  But 
it  happened,  as  has  been  said,  that  the  hidden  was 
sometimes  found,  and  what  could  be  found  was  now 
brought  out  to  buy  the  Hollander’s  salt.  A few  of  the 
islanders  had  had  the  good  fortune  to  smuggle  fish  or 
tar  to  Vesterbotten  and  in  that  way  had  obtained  small 
sums  which  were  now  used.  But  the  most  had  noth- 
ing but  dried  fish;  only  those  from  the  mainland  had 
fox-skins,  squirrel-skins  and  bears’  hides  to  exchange 
for  the  salt,  and  the  Hollanders  were  altogether  too 
good  merchants  not  to  accept  these  wares  at  the  least 
possible  price. 


294 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  HOLLANDERS  IN  OSTERBOTTEN 1715. 

TWO  days  and  two  nights  the  Dutch  trader  contin- 
ued to  retail  salt  to  the  dwellers  on  Bjorko.  The 
report  had  spread  far  along  the  coast,  and  boat  after 
boat  pushed  out  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  to  procure 
the  precious  goods.  What  could  not  be  carried  away 
was  buried  in  cellars,  and  wells  with  double  bottoms,  or 
concealed  in  barns  and  outhouses.  It  would  have  been 
a profitable  business  to  the  Hollanders  if  the  poverty 
had  not  been  so  great.  Their  vessel  presented  a 
strange  appearance.  Furs  of  all  kinds,  grain,  pitch, 
tar,  hand-sawed  boards,  wool,  flax,  cloths,  even  woolen 
skirts  and  home-spun  jackets,  had  been  taken  in  ex- 
change for  salt  and  were  stowed  away  as  well  as  could 
readily  be  done  with  such  a miscellaneous  collection. 
And  yet  here,  in  one  of  the  naturally  richest  districts  of 
Finland’s  coast,  scarcely  half  the  cargo  of  the  indispen- 
sable and  ardently  wished  for  commodity  could  be  sold. 

Among  the  Hollanders  there  were  two  passengers 
who  took  no  part  in  the  business,  but  time  and  again 
went  ashore  and  questioned  now  this  Finn  and  now  that 
one  concerning  the  condition  of  the  country.  One  of 
them,  a slim  youth  with  his  hat  drawn  down  over  his 
fine  face,  often  turned  with  an  impatient,  inquiring  look 
to  the  other,  a strong- limbed,  gray-haired  man,  who, 
as  if  in  answer  to  the  inquiring  glances,  shook  his 
head  with  the  respectful  familiarity  of  an  old  servant 
and  answered:  “ Not  yet!  not  yet!” 

Among  the  salt-buyers  was  an  elderly  peasant,  ac- 
companied by  two  boys  about  fourteen  and  sixteen 
years  of  age.  His  tall  figure  and  his  more  distinguished 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


295 


appearance  as  compared  with  the  multitude  of  the 
crowd  of  poor  people  about  him  seemed  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  young  stranger,  and  in  good  Swedish  he 
inquired  his  name. 

“ Lars  Larsson  Bertila  from  Storkyro,”was  the  short 
answer  in  Finnish,  which  the  servant  at  once  interpreted 
to  his  master. 

“ Are  the  boys  your  sons  ?”  asked  the  stranger. 

“ Two  left  of  eight,”  answered  the  man  bluntly,  and 
turned  around  to  lift  another  salt  sack  into  his  boat  at 
the  side  of  the  vessel. 

“ Bertila?  Bertila?”  repeated  the  stranger  thought- 
fully, as  if  the  name  was  not  wholly  unknown  to  him. 
“ That  was  the  name,  if  I remember  aright,  of  the  fam- 
ily seat  of  the  present  noble  house  of  Bertelskold.” 

The  man  looked  up  but  did  not  reply. 

“ Perhaps  you  know  a person  by  that  name — Major 
Gustaf  Bertelskold  ?” 

A dark  flush  covered  the  peasant’s  brown  cheeks, 
and  it  was  a moment  before  he  answered:  “ I must  in- 
deed remember  the  man  who  cost  me  six  sons,  all  good 
and  true  men  of  six  feet  and  two  inches,  with  iron  in 
their  arms  and  hearts  in  their  breasts.” 

“ Poor  father  !”  said  the  stranger  sympathizingly. 
“ If  anything  can  mitigate  your  loss,  it  is  that  your  sons 
fell  for  king  and  fatherland  under  the  leadership  of  a 
brave  man.” 

Bertila  again  remained  silent.  The  pain  was  too 
bitter  to  permit  him,  like  Thomas  Hane,  to  bless  his 
honorable  lot  in  having  sacrificed  six  sons  to  his  coun- 
try. 

“ My  good  man,”  said  the  stranger  again,  “ if  you 
can  procure  me  a safe  guide  through  the  forests  in  the 
interior  of  the  country  to  Kajana  castle,  I will  richly  re- 
ward the  service.” 

The  peasant  smiled  sadly,  almost  with  pity.  “ Ev- 
erything that  can,  flees  from  this  land  which  the  scourge 
of  the  Master  punishes;  far  around  there  is  nothing  to 


296 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XU. 


see  but  blood,  ashes  and  misery;  the  wild  beasts  of  the 
forest  roam  about  in  many  of  the  formerly  rich  villages 
and  men  seek  out  their  lodges  in  the  woods.  Every 
road  and  path  swarms  with  enemies;  for  all  the  gold  in 
the  world  you  could  hardly  buy  a shelter  for  your  head 
or  bread  for  your  hunger;  and  you  wish  to  go  to  Kaja- 
na  castle!  You  are  young,  sir,  young  and  inexperi- 
enced; listen  to  the  advice  of  an  old  man  who  pities 
your  fair,  beardless  cheeks.  Turn  back  to  the  place 
you  came  from;  you  have  perhaps  a mother  there  who 
every  evening  fixes  the  pillow  under  your  head,  or  a 
sister  who  combs  your  black  hair,  or  a bride  who  gently 
strokes  your  rosy  cheeks,  or  perhaps  an  old  father  that 
will  one  day  weep  when  he  hears  that  you  have  been 
nailed  fast  to  the  stem  of  a Finnish  fir,  or  bound  to  the 
pommel  of  an  enemy’s  saddle  and  forced  to  run  bare- 
footed in  the  snow  till  you  gave  up  the  ghost.  Turn 
back,  young  man;  there  is  yet  time.  If  you  seek  death, 
seek  him  in  gentler  form  on  some  battle-field;  here 
there  is  no  longer  found  a battle-field,  only  unknown 
martyrs  and  forgotten  graves.  Go!  What  do  you 
look  for  here?  Here  is  worse  than  death,  here  is  des- 
pair!” 

Saying  this  the  old  man  jumped  into  his  boat  at  the 
schooner’s  side,  waved  a mute  farewell,  and  was  soon 
lost  to  sight  behind  a projecting  point.  Sadly  the 
stranger  saw  him  disappear.  “ What  is  to  be  done?” 
said  he,  hesitatingly  to  himself. 

“Go  with  the  Hollander,”  said  the  voice  of  his 
servant  behind  him.  “ This  is  no  place  to  go  ashore  ; 
the  coast  is  blocked  up  with  enemies,  and  the  woods, 
at  this  time  of  year,  are  impassable.  The  Hollander 
has  decided  to-day  to  go  farther  north,  as  he  has  not 
been  able  to  sell  more  than  half  his  cargo.  We  must 
go  with  him.” 

“You  are  right,  Tobias,”  answered  the  stranger. 
“We  must  make  the  attempt  farther  north.” 

And,  in  fact,  the  Hollander  sailed  away  the  follow- 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A HA  ME. 


297 


in g night,  and  continued  his  adventurous  journey 
farther  northward.  It  was  known  that  the  principal 
strength  of  the  enemy  was  now  stationed  in  and  around 
Gamla-Carleby,  whither  the  galley-fleet  had  also 
gone  in  order  to  maintain  connection  with  the  land 
forces.  The  bold  sailor  therefore  held  near  the  Swedish 
shore  till  he  had  passed  the  roadstead  of  plundered 
Ny-Carleby,  burnt  Jakobstad,  and  the  headquarters  at 
Gamla-Carleby.  But,  reaching  the  height  of  Kalajoki, 
he  again  approached  the  Finnish  coast,  and  farther 
north  made  a cautious  attempt  to  find  out  beforehand 
if  he  might  venture  to  lay  to.  For  that  purpose  he 
made  towards  some  fugitives  sailing  by  ; their  fear  was 
so  great  that  they  threw  overboard  their  valuables  that 
they  might  the  more  easily  get  away.  The  Hollander 
was  not  a bad  fellow  ; he  began  by  swearing  at  the 
“ dumb  asses,”  and  finished  by  blessing  the  “ poor 
devils.”  The  slim  stranger  and  his  Tobias  acted  as 
interpreters.  And  “ not  yet  ” was  again  the  dry  answer 
from  Tobias’s  lips. 

“We  knew,”  said  the  fugitives,  “that  the  enemy, 
thirteen  thousand  strong,  was  in  camp  at  Gamla-Carle- 
by, on  the  land  belonging  to  the  city  and  the  church. 
But  as  he  made  no  show  of  going  farther,  and  we  had 
a strong  post  in  Siikajoki  to  keep  off  marauders,  at  the 
end  of  August  both  priests  and  peasants,  who  had 
before  fled  to  Kemi,  returned.  The  crop  sowed  in 
1714  was  ripe  in  the  fields  ; every  kernel  of  rye  was  a 
treasure,  and  who  would  not  harvest  what  could  be 
harvested  ? There  was  no  time  to  reap,  we  cut  with 
the  scythe  ; there  was  no  time  to  thresh,  the  bundles 
were  laid  on  the  straw-wagons  and  whoever  had  a 
horse  drove  north,  but  mostly  men  and  their  wives 
drew  the  loads  and  the  children  pushed,  and  the  littlest 
ones  were  laid  on  the  straw.  Many  also  hunted  up 
what  they  had  hidden  and  were  not  able  to  take  away 
at  the  last  flight  ; and  so  there  were  seen  again  endless 
rows  of  wagon  after  wagon  on  the  highways  moving 


298 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


northward.  Those  who  were  along  the  year  before 
now  saw  again  the  same  pitiful  sight  as  when  the 
enemy’s  galleys  landed  at  Ny-Carleby  Aminne  in  the 
rear  and  the  Cossacks  mined  the  road  in  front.  A 
single  cry  from  the  last  in  the  row  would  frighten  at 
least  a hundred  driving  before  him  ; grain  and  goods 
and  clothes  were  thrown  away  on  the  road  ; if  there  was 
a horse  on  the  wagon  he  was  unhitched,  and  those  who 
could,  mounted  and  rode  away  ; if  a wheel  broke  there 
was  no  time  to  mend  it,  and  everything  had  to  be  left 
in  the  lurch.  The  husband  came  seeking  his  wife  ; the 
mother  sought  her  children,  the  children  their  mother, 
bewildered  in  the  great  hastening  crowd.  At  last  the 
danger  came  in  earnest.  The  garrison  at  Siikajoki, 
mere  peasants,  had  no  better  commander  than  an  old 
painter  and  a drunken  under-officer.  They  did  not 
understand  how  to  post  their  sentries,  and  allowed 
themselves  to  be  surprised.  Mannstein  and  Tscher- 
kasnikoff  attacked  them  with  cavalry  and  in  a moment 
scattered  the  whole  post,  after  which  they  set  off  in 
haste  towards  Limingo  and  Uleaborg  and  fell  upon  the 
rear  of  the  fugitives.  What  happened  afterwards  is 
easier  thought  than  said.  Many  priests  and  gentlemen 
were  captured  and  sent  to  Abo,  but  the  people  who 
remained  fled  to  the  woods,  and,”  said  the  fugitives  in 
conclusion,  “the  whole  country  between  Siikajoki  and 
Uleaborg  is  an  uninhabited  desert.” 

The  Hollander  frowned  and  went  on.  Nothing 
could  be  made  here. 

Off  Uleaborg  he  exchanged  shots  with  a Russian 
galley  which  was,  even  in  Autumn,  out  to  intercept 
fugitives.  The  light  sailing-vessel  made  use  of  its 
advantage  over  the  heavy  oared  galley,  gave  him  in 
passing  a few  well-directed  balls  fore  and  aft,  and  con- 
tinued its  dangerous  journey  in  unknown  waters  where 
even  better  sailing  charts  than  those  then  in  use,  in 
twenty  years  became  useless  on  account  of  upheavals 
of  the  land  and  consequent  shallow  waters. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


299 


Finally,  one  of  the  last  days  of  October,  the  trader 
anchored  at  the  mouth  of  Finland’s  largest  river,  the 
mighty  Kemi,  and  began  a profitable  traffic  with  the 
inhabitants.  At  Kemi  lay  the  farthest  outpost  of  the 
Swedish  and  Finnish  army,  a division  of  four  or  five 
hundred  men  under  Colonel  Boije,  supported  by  about 
an  equal  number  of  drafted  militia.  The  tract  was 
therefore  for  the  moment  safe,  and  as  it  had  hitherto 
suffered  less  by  the  war,  so  that  only  half  of  the  popu- 
lation was  killed  or  scattered,  and  only  three-fourths 
perhaps  of  the  wealth  had  been  swallowed  up  in  war- 
taxes  and  the  disasters  of  later  years,  the  salt  found 
the  desired  demand,  and  could  in  some  slight  degree 
be  paid  for  in  ringing  coin.  Especially  did  the  Hol- 
landers greedily  receive  the  heavy  stamped  copper 
blocks  which  for  a time,  like  Sparta’s  iron  coin,  circu- 
lated in  trade  in  place  of  gold  and  silver,  and  which, 
having  been  superseded  by  coin  below  the  standard, 
were  in  many  places  concealed  in  the  earth,  to  be  dug 
up  a hundred  years  after  and  wrought  into  Finnish 
coffee  boilers. 

The  stranger  questioned  Tobias,  who,  after  having 
counseled  with  well-informed  persons,  finally  answered  : 
“The  attempt  can  be  made  now;”  after  which  both 
the  master  and  the  servant,  provided  with  guides,  set 
out  on  the  hazardous  journey  to  Finland’s  only  remain- 
ing fortified  point,  little  Kajana  Castle. 


300 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


KAJANA  CASTLE. 


RIENDLY  listener,  you  who  yet  remember  the 


former  days  when  the  haughty  historian  and  a 
beautiful  German  princess  sighed  within  the  walls  of 
Kajana  Castle,  accompany  us  once  more  to  the  far 
north,  to  the  gray  walls  above  Amma’s  roaring  falls. 
It  is  winter  now  as  then  ; the  drift  lies  white  upon  the 
branches  of  the  pines,  and  the  ice  feebly  stretches  its 
farthest  corner  out  towards  the  reeking  falls  which  it 
has  not  power  to  enclose  in  its  embrace  of  steel.  But 
the  region  about  the  castle  is  not  as  solitary  as  before. 
The  little  city  at  its  side  swarms  with  military  ; every 
hut  and  cabin  in  the  vicinity  is  filled  with  gray  coats, 
and  since  these  were  not  sufficient  to  hold  a whole 
army,  long  barracks  have  been  built  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  and  then,  not  having  room  for  the  constantly 
increasing  multitude,  snow  huts  have  been  thrown  up, 
furnished  inside  with  bast  mats  and  provided  with  doors 
and  small  windows  filled  with  canvas  instead  of  glass 


panes. 


The  Russian  army,  under  General  Tschekin,  belea- 
guered Finland’s  only  remaining  fortress,  Kajana  Castle. 
A great  change  was  going  on  in  this  improvised  camp, 
for  although  four  thousand  men  marched  thither  in 
the  beginning  of  December,  1715,  at  the  beginning  of 
January  of  the  following  year  the  greater  part  of  them 
had  already  disappeared  from  the  earth.  But  it  was 
not  the  sword  and  balls  of  the  defenders  that  had 
mowed  them  down  like  straw  before  the  scythe  of  the 
harvester;  it  was  Egypt’s  angel  of  death  which  of  old  de- 
stroyed Sennacherib’s  army,  and  which,  now  in  the  form 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


301 


of  a destructive  camp  fever,  snatched  away  hundreds 
and  thousands  of  the  beleaguering  army.  Two  of  the 
largest  barracks  were  turned  into  hospitals  ; new 
patients  constantly  poured  in ; others  were  constantly 
carried  away,  those  who  had  fought  out  their  battle 
and  found  rest  under  northern  snows.  So  terrible  was 
the  fatality  that,  in  January,  when  three  thousand  fresh 
troops  had  reached  the  camp,  the  number  of  men  fit  for 
duty  soon  became  even  less  than  when  the  siege  first 
began  a month  before. 

Yet  the  strength  of  the  enemy  was  colossal  in  com- 
parison with  that  of  the  besieged.  Major  Fieandt 
defended  the  castle  with  fifty  invalids  — lame,  palsied, 
one-eyed  remains  of  the  Finnish  army  — reinforced  by 
a few  partisans,  known  by  the  mysterious  and  frightful 
name  of  “ sissar”  all  of  them  desperate  men  clad  in 
rags,  accustomed  to  fight  for  weeks  and  months  with- 
out a roof  over  their  heads,  and  with  no  other  food 
than  bark-bread,  squirrels  killed  with  arrows,  and 
horses  that  had  died  a natural  death.  These  defended 
themselves  with  a heroism  worthy  of  the  Carotins’ 
most  brilliant  achievements  in  this  desperate  time. 
They  repulsed  storm  after  storm,  they  made  sallies  by 
night,  not  hoping  for  any  decisive  success  but  that 
from  the  enemy’s  stock  of  provisions  and  ammunition 
they  might  add  something  to  the  slender  resources  of 
the  castle.  They  fought  night  and  day  without  hope 
of  assistance,  separated  from  the  nearest  Swedish  forces 
by  two  hundred  miles  of  wilderness  ; — they  fought  for 
a lost  country,  whose  whole  broad  territory,  even  to  the 
remotest  corner,  was  overrun  with  enemies,  without 
hope  of  deliverance  ; forsaken  by  the  king  for  whom 
they  had  bled  ; forgotten  by  the  world,  which,  with 
admiration  and  sympathy,  beheld  farther  south  the 
other  champions  in  the  great  death-struggle  of  the 
Carolins  ; exposed  to  hunger,  cold  and  sickness,  and 
hearing  every  day  the  wail  of  the  fugitives  in  the  nar- 
row arches  of  the  castle.  And  they  did  not  waver,  did 


302 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


not  murmur,  did  not  complain.  Every  morning  and 
evening  prayers  were  held  under  the  central  arch,  and 
the  priest  Cajanus  of  Peldamo,  who,  with  all  his  family, 
had  taken  refuge  in  the  castle,  with  the  immovable 
courage  which  true  piety  gives,  urged  the  men  to  be 
steadfast  even  unto  death.  And  when  they  counted 
over  their  thinned  ranks  and  found  now  one  and  now 
another  disqualified  for  the  conflict  by  wounds  or  by 
disease,  these  enervated,  ragged,  powder -blackened 
beings  would  voluntarily  fill  up  the  breaches  ; they 
slept  an  hour  less,  they  worked  an  hour  longer,  they 
bled  a little  more  than  before,  they  multiplied  them- 
selves, they  were  everywhere  ; — and  the  enemy  saw 
with  astonishment  that  the  number  of  the  garrison 
rather  increased  than  diminished.  Traveler,  you  who 
on  a northern  summer  day  tramp  over  the  ruins  of  the 
fallen  Kajana  Castle,  go  not  indifferently  by  these 
walls  ; take  off  your  hat  in  the  presence  of  the  shadows 
which  walk  again  among  these  ruins,  for  there  was  a 
time  when  this  little  spot  was  all  that  remained  to 
Finland,  and  brave  Finnish  men  bled  here  for  their 
fatherland  ! 

All  the  bravery  of  the  defenders  would  nevertheless 
have  availed  them  little,  had  the  enemy  been  in  con- 
dition to  bring  with  them  heavy  artillery.  Fortunately 
this  was  impossible.  They  kept  up  the  fire  with  small 
field-guns  and  grenades,  which  could  not  accomplish 
anything  against  the  firm  walls;  and  the  castle,  whose 
artillery  was  in  a still  more  deplorable  condition, 
answered  the  cannonade  with  a well-directed  and  care- 
fully spared  fire  of  musketry,  In  addition,  arrows 
were  used  on  both  sides  ; the  Calmucks  and  other  irreg- 
ular troops  were,  at  that  time,  only  in  exceptional 
cases  provided  with  fire-arms,  and  the  Finns  oftentimes 
seized  their  bows  to  save  their  powder.  It  was  the  last 
days  of  ancient  archery  ; for  after  the  great  war  cross- 
bows went  entirely  out  of  use,  and  are  only  at  times 
found  again  in  the  earth  or  in  worn-out  repositories, 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME . 


303 


often  beautifully  inlaid  with  ornaments  of  bone  and 
provided  with  a steel  bow  which  centuries  have  corro- 
ded and  which  arms  of  the  present  day  are  powerless  to 
draw. 

In  one  of  the  castle  chambers,  the  little  grated  win- 
dow of  which  looked  toward  Amma,  there  lay  a tall 
young  man,  enfeebled  by  severe  wounds,  and  unable  to 
raise  himself  from  the  beggarly  bed.  His  beard  had 
grown  long ; his  eyes  were  sunken  ; his  sinewy  arm, 
now  powerless,  rested  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  held 
mechanically  a doll  which  a little  girl  had  just  handed 
him.  The  Cajanus  family  lived  in  the  adjoining  room, 
and  the  wounded  man  shortened  the  time  by  looking 
at  the  children’s  playthings.  It  was  characteristic  of 
the  times  that  even  the  doll  had  a swoid  belt  and  a 
wooden  sword  modeled  after  reality.  The  little  girls 
themselves  played  war,  and  the  very  infants  had 
become  so  accustomed  to  the  roar  of  cannon  and  the 
clattering  of  balls  against  the  castle  walls  that  they  were 
no  longer  put  to  sleep  with  any  other  cradle-song. 

The  wounded  soldier  was  Gosta  Bertelskold.  It 
was  evening.  A young  man  entered,  sat  down  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed  and  looked  at  the  wounded  man  with 
affectionate  devotion.  To  judge  by  his  immature  and 
childlike  features,  the  new-comer  had  hardly  attained 
the  years  of  youth  ; and,  in  fact,  he  was  only  twelve  or 
thirteen  years  old.  But  in  height  he  was  already  the 
equal  of  Bertelskold,  who  measured  almost  seven  feet. 
This  young  giant,  who  afterward  grew  to  a hight  of 
eight  feet  and  four  inches,  was  Daniel  Cajanus,  grand- 
son of  the  priest  Johan  Cajanus,  of  the  noble  family  of 
Gyllenhjerta. 

“ There  will  be  a raid  to-night, ” said  this  peculiar 
boy  with  a pleasant  smile  ; “ now  we  will  get  the  major 
a drop  of  wine.  Besides,  the  wood  is  out,  and  since 
we  have  had  a taste  of  those  Russian  loaves,  the  ammu- 
nition bread  with  bark  in  it  is  not  to  our  liking.” 

“ Will  it  take  you  far  to-night  ? ” asked  Bertelskold. 


304 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“ I do  not  know,  but  they  say  there  are  ‘ sissar  ’ at 
Manamansalo  ; we  must  go  as  far  as  we  can  in  that 
direction,  and  a mine  is  prepared  to  be  sprung  behind 
us  when  we  come  back.  It  was  fortunate  that  we  took 
those  three  loads  of  powder  the  last  time  we  were  out ; 
we  have  now  enough  to  blow  the  whole  castle  into  the 
air.” 

“ That  will  be  the  best  we  can  do  at  the  last;  do 
you  not  think  so,  Daniel  ? ” said  the  wounded  cham- 
pion with  a sad  smile. 

“ I shall  not  jump  into  the  Amma  on  account  of 
that,”  said  the  boy  proudly.  “All  the  gates  wide 
open,  thousands  of  enemies  upon  us,  and  if  no  one  else 
wants  to  go  with  the  match  to  the  powder-room,  I will 
do  it.  But  good-bye  now,  Major  ; do  not  lie  awake 
to  listen  to  the  shooting,  it  will  go  well  enough,  and 
before  day  dawns  I will  bring  you  a bottle  of  good 
wine — if  I live  so  long.” 

Evening  went.  Night  came.  At  midnight,  when 
the  moon  had  gone  into  a thick  snow-cloud,  an  alarm 
was  heard  on  the  west  side  of  the  castle,  in  the  direc- 
tion from  which  the  eternal  roar  of  the  Amma  was 
heard  in  the  silence  of  the  northern  winter  night.  The 
wounded  champion  could  not  sleep  ; he  listened  with 
accustomed  ear  to  every  shot,  to  every  clash  of  arms 
that  might  disclose  which  way  the  fight  was  turning. 
But  these  indications  were  altogether  insufficient.  He 
became  conscious  of  a light  in  the  adjoining  room. 
The  sally  was  of  the  boldest  character,  and  no  one  in 
the  castle  was  asleep  that  night,  except  the  little  chil- 
dren who  had  no  suspicion  of  the  danger.  More  than 
half  the  garrison  had  gone  out ; an  army  of  about 
thirty  men  against  three  or  four  thousand.  The  'rest 
kept  watch,  every  arm  by  the  match,  every  hand  upon 
the  trigger.  Even  the  women  stood  at  their  posts 
ready  to  touch  off  the  guns  ; and  the  children,  who  had 
their  appointed  places  to  bring  forward  the  powder  and 
balls,  were  encouraged  with  the  dainty  hope  of  being 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


305 


rewarded  with  a cup  of  milk  from  the  five  or  six  cows 
still  found  alive  in  the  castle.  But  the  enemy  did  not 
attack,  either  because  he  feared  an  ambush  or  because 
he  considered  his  booty  certain  without  further  waste 
of  life.  Yet  a confused  uproar  indicated  that  all  the 
enemy’s  camp  was  in  commotion.  Finally,  after  five 
or  six  long  hours,  the  clash  of  arms  was  heard  close 
beside  the  walls  and  the  gate  on  the  north  side  was 
opened  to  receive  the  returning  men.  Bertelskold 
listened.  By  the  shots  and  the  noise  he  could  guess 
that  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  and  by  the  hard- 
est fighting  that  they  succeeded  in  returning  to  the 
castle.  How  willingly  would  that  wounded  Carolin 
have  given  his  left  arm  to  have  been  able  to  fight  in 
their  ranks  with  his  right ! 

Notwithstanding  his  room  looked  towards  the 
south,  the  first  streaks  of  the  January  morning  had  not 
dawned  when  the  young  giant  burst  in,  bearing  in  his 
hand  a little  earthen  bottle.  “ Drink,  Major,  drink  ! ” 
he  cried,  “ it  will  do  you  good  ! ” and  with  these  words 
he  sank  down  fainting  by  the  warrior’s  bed. 

The  women  hastened  in  and  brought  him  to  his 
senses  again.  Bertelskold  gratefully  pressed  his  hand. 
“ This  has  cost  more  than  a drop  of  wine  is  worth,” 
said  he,  much  affected. 

“ Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  me,”  said  the  boy, 
who  was  bleeding  from  several  slight  wounds,  but  who 
had  fainted  from  over  exertion  rather  than  from  loss  of 
blood.  “ I have  done  my  work  ; I have  struck  to  the 
ground  five  or  six  ; that  amounts  to  nothing.  But  I 
have  met  the  ‘ sissar  ’ and  helped  them  to  cut  their 
way  hither.  We  went  forward  even  to  the  ice  of 
Oulujarvi  and  blew  the  horn  till  it  echoed  in  Hiisi  cas- 
tle. We  have  taken  wood,  but  no  provisions.  On  our 
return  we  had  half  of  the  enemy’s  strength  upon  us. 
Not  one  of  us  would  have  returned,  if  the  Amma  had 
not  helped  us  by  cutting  under  the  ice,  so  that  it  broke 
beneath  the  enemy  and  drew  at  least  a hundred  into 
U 13* 


306 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


the  deep.  But  the  victory  cost  us  dear — too  dear, 
Major,  for  half  our  men  fell  or  were  captured.  I do 
not  know  whether  fifteen  or  twenty  of  us  succeeded 
in  reaching  the  gate.  But  we  brought  with  us  ten 
fresh  partisans,  and,  among  them,  one  who  immedi- 
ately enquired  for  you.” 

“ Brave  boys  ! ” exclaimed  Bertelskold.  “ Who  is 
it,  that  still  remembers  I am  in  the  world  ?” 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IN  THE  LAND  OF  THE  AMAZONS. 

^^"VXT‘HO  is  it,  that  remembers  you?”  repeated 

W Daniel.  “ Do  I know  that?  It  is  a plump 
little  fop,  a gentleman  who  would  have  room  enough 
in  one  of  my  jacket  pockets  1 ” And  the  giant-boy 
laughed  contemptuously,  with  the  superiority  of 
strength. 

As  he  said  this,  a youth  was  seen  at  the  door,  on 
whom  faintly  shone  the  light  of  a couple  of  pine  logs, 
which  crackled  in  the  open  fire-place  ; for  tallow  can- 
dles were  an  unknown  luxury  at  Kajana  Castle  in  these 
straitened  times.  The  new-comer  was  slim  in  figure, 
and  was  dressed  in  an  expensive  fur  coat  ; a broad- 
brimmed  hat,  which  he  did  not  lay  aside  on  entering, 
concealed  his  face  so  that  one  could  only  distinguish  a 
beardless  chin  and  a pair  of  pale  cheeks  somewhat 
sooty  with  the  powder-smoke  of  the  late  engagement. 

A silence  ensued.  A strange  emotion  possessed 
Bertelskold.  “ Go,  Daniel,  go  my  friend  ! ” said  the 
major.  “ The  young  gentleman  may  have  something 
private  to  tell  me.” 

Daniel  went  with  a displeased  side-glance  at  the 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A HA  ME. 


307 


strange  guest.  With  the  quick  instinct  of  a child  of 
nature,  he  seemed  to  suspect  in  the  new-comer  a com- 
petitor who  might  crowd  him  out  of  his  undisputed 
place  as  the  major's  acknowledged  favorite. 

A new  silence  ensued,  which  neither  seemed  inclined 
to  break.  Finally^  Bertelskold  half  arose  and  said  : 
“ Young  man,  you  might  have  chosen  a better  shelter 
than  this.  But  you  are,  it  may  be,  a fugitive  from 
some  place  that  has  been  burned  ? ’’ 

“The  whole  kingdom  is  like  a burnt  manor,"  said 
the  stranger,  in  a melodious  voice,  which  drove  the 
blood  to  Bertelskold’s  pale  cheeks.  “ One  seeks  his 
friends  where  they  may  be  found  ; one  place  is  as  good 
as  another." 

The  wounded  man  wandered  ; his  head  sank  down 
on  his  hard  pillow  of  straw.  Delirious  words  escaped 
his  lips.  “ My  horse  ! " cried  he,  “ my  horse  ! Hew 
in,  boys,  hew  in  ! They  are  carrying  her  away,  and  we 
must  save  her  ! " 

In  an  instant  the  stranger  was  at  his  side,  smoothed 
his  pillow,  and  laid  his  delicate  white  hand  on  the 
major’s  high-arched  brow.  But  the  wounded  man 
continued  : “ Ride,  Daniel,  ride ! Loose  the  reins, 

put  the  spurs  in  ! We  must  find  her  if  it  costs  our 
lives  ; but  see  to  it,  child,  that  you  do  not  ride  across 
the  peasants’  fields.  We  must  save  our  own  land  ! 
Ride,  Daniel,  ride  ....  not  that  way  ....  that  road 
goes  to  Pultowa  and  Storkyro  ....  hither,  here  is 
Narva  ....  here  ! ’’ 

Daniel  heard  the  cry,  hastened  in  and  seized  the 
stranger  firmly  by  the  arm.  “ Stop  your  witchcraft 
with  the  major,"  he  cried,  “ or  I will  throw  you  over 
the  wall  to  play  leap-frog  with  the  enemy  ! That  is 
all  you  are  fit  for." 

“Daniel!  Daniel!  they  are  looking  for  you!  the 
enemy  is  getting  ready  to  storm  the  castle  ! ’’  was 
shouted  from  without. 

“ Look  after  him  and  see  that  he  does  not  enchant 


308 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


my  major  ! ” shrieked  Daniel,  and  hastened  out.  No 
one  had  any  time  for  Bertelskold. 

The  stranger  blew  a little  whistle,  and  old  Tobias 
entered.  The  reader  has  probably  already  recognized 
in  the  new-comer  the  young  passenger  on  the  Dutch 
schooner  engaged  in  the  salt  speculation. 

Tobias,  an  old  man  of  few  words,  with  a peculiar 
Bjorneborg  brogue,  made  an  examination  of  the 
major’s  wounds  and  shook  his  head.  “Are  they 
dangerous  ? ” asked  the  young  man  anxiously. 

“ Might  be,”  answered  the  old  man  dryly.  “ These 
Lapland  doctors  think  lectures  are  sufficient  to  stop 
blood.” 

“ Use  your  herbs  then,  and  if  you  succeed  in  sav- 
ing him,  you  may  select  the  best  farm  in  your  parish 
and  I will  buy  it  for  you.” 

Tobias  nodded  ; he  considered  it  unnecessary  to 
waste  words  on  so  plain  a matter,  and  in  a moment 
the  wounds,  which  consisted  of  four  or  five  pike  stabs 
and  as  many  saber  cuts  across  the  breast  and  arms, 
were  dressed  anew,  and  by  a skillful  hand.  Then  he 
gave  the  wounded  man  a drink  of  herbs  which  he  car- 
ried with  him  in  a little  bag.  The  delirium  ceased. 
Bertelskold  fell  asleep,  and  slept  quietly  for  twelve  full 
hours,  while  the  battle  raged  about  the  walls,  and  the 
garrison  with  the  utmost  exertion  drove  back  the 
storming  party. 

It  was  already  evening,  when  he  wakened  quietly, 
and  with  a pleasant  feeling  of  new-born  strength. 
Tobias  had  gone  out  to  relieve  a tired  guard  on  the 
walls  ; the  elegant  youth  sat  by  the  bedside,  and  could 
not  restrain  a quiet  exclamation  of  joy.  The  firelight 
from  the  chimney  now  fell  more  clearly  on  his  face,  and 
it  was  no  longer  smirched  with  powder.  Bertelskold 
looked  at  him  in  perfect  silence  ; one  could  see  by 
his  look  that  he  was  uncertain  if  what  he  saw  before 
him  was  not  the  figure  of  a beautiful  dream. 

“ Are  you  better  now  ? ” asked  the  stranger.  “ No. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


309 


you  must  not  look  at  me  so  strangely,”  added  he, 
when  the  flush  again  mounted  to  the  wounded  man’s 
cheek.  “ I must,  in  fact,  be  deceived  in  thinking  that 
I was  not  recognized  at  first, — but  I forgive  you  on 
condition  that  you  now  recognize  me  and  obediently 
comply  with  my  demands.” 

With  these  words  the  stranger  laid  aside  the  broad- 
brimmed  hat,  which,  until  now,  he  had  kept  on  his 
head  ; and  Bertelskold  instantly  recognized  the  beau- 
tiful, proud  and  resolute  features  of  Eva  Rhenfelt, 
born  Falkenberg.  Only  the  long  black  hair  was  gone, 
clipped  short  in  the  neck  that  it  might  not  betray  its 
owner. 

“ But  is  it  not  a dream  ?”  exclaimed  the  major,  and 
suspecting  the  extent  of  his  loved  one’s  sacrifice,  a sin- 
gle clear  tear  trickled  from  his  manly  eye. 

“ Quiet,  my  lord;  no  excitement;  I shall  have  to 
answer  for  it  to  your  new  doctor.  Promise  to  listen 
like  a good  child,  and  I will  tell  you  a story.  I received 
your  letter  last  summer,  in  which  you  besought  me  to 
set  every  spring  in  motion  to  procure  help  for  Finland. 
What  is  the  use  of  going  to  the  coupcil,  I thought ; the 
council  has  already  promised  more  than  it  can  perform. 
I sought  out  the  king  at  Stralsund  ; it  was  not  easy, 
you  may  believe,  but  I saw  him  . . . 

“ You  saw  him,  Eva?  ” 

“ Be  calm.  I saw  him  and  talked  with  him  too. 
He  remembered  you  well  . . . .” 

“Ah,  he  remembered  me  yet!  ” 

“ Be  quiet!  If  you  regard  me  as  a dream  you  will 
force  me  to  disappear.  He  spoke  of  you  with  respect. 
A brave  man!  said  he — take  notice,  it  means  something 
when  King  Charles  says  that!  Well,  I will  not  make 
you  too  proud.  Regarding  the  aid  I asked  for  Finland, 
the  king  promised  that  he  would  not  forget  it,  when  he 
had  first  got  the  Prussians,  the  Saxons  and  the  Danes 
off  his  neck.  You  must  hold  out,  he  said,  as  long  as 
you  can ” 


310 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


Bertelskold  smiled.  “ When  King  Charles  says  ‘ as 
long  as  you  can/  it  means  as  long  as  I have  a barrel 
of  powder  left  with  which  to  blow  myself  and  the  cas- 
tle into  the  air.  It  is  well  to  know  it;  I have  long  been 
of  the  same  mind.” 

“ No,  that  cannot  be  the  king’s  intention,”  resumed 
Eva,  amazed;  “ I am  certain  that  he  would  rather  use 
your  arm  where  it  can  be  of  the  most  service  to  the 
country.  Well,  I returned  to  Stockholm,  then  to  Sma- 
land.  I sought  country  quiet  upon  my  estate  there. 
In  vain;  the  thought  of  you,  of  your  peril  and 
self-denial,  pursued  me  night  and  day  and  chased 
sleep  from  my  eyes.  Not  in  a condition  to  bear  arms 
for  my  fatherland,  what  had  I to  live  for  if  not  for  you! 
I could  not  endure  it  any  longer,  I must  seek  you  out 
to  die  with  you  if  that  must  be;  live  without  you — I 
can  do  it  no  longer!  I found  among  the  Finnish  fugi- 
tives an  old  man  who  had  the  courage  to  accompany 
me;  I sacrificed  my  long  hair  for  you,  since  I could 
not,  like  the  Carthagenian  women,  offer  it  to  father- 
land.  I would  go  over  to  Finland,  but  how?  I went 
on  board  a Dutch  vessel;  we  landed,  now  here,  now 
there,  to  trade  in  salt;  impossible  to  find  a safe  point 
before  we  were  far  north,  in  Kemi!  There  I left  the 
Hollander,  to  press  forward  through  the  desolated  land 
to  you.  More  than  three  long  months  have  I wandered 
about  in  the  wilderness  to  find  the  way  hither;  Gosta, 
you  need  not  blush  for  me,  I too  am  familiar  with 
strife  and  hunger  and  thirst.  What  a life  with  these 
partisans,  these  Sissars  and  Kivekats,  who  live  like  rob- 
bers in  the  most  impenetrable  recesses  of  the  forest, 
and  suddenly  break  forth  on  their  snow-shoes  to  sur- 
prise a hostile  transport,  capture  a post,  or  cut  off  a 
marauding  party,  and  then  vanish  like  the  mist  into 
their  inaccessible  hiding  places!  All  my  gold  was 
spent,  and  I had  lost  all  hope  of  ever  finding  you, 
when  I finally  met  a party  that  succeeded  in  reaching 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


311 


the  ice  of  Ulea  lake  and  thence  during  a nocturnal  raid 
came  to  Kajana  Castle!  ” 

“ Eva,”  said  Bertelskold,  with  much  feeling,  “ do 
you  know  that  you  are  now  in  the  land  of  the  Amazons, 
who,  according  to  Messenius  and  Rudbeck,  had  their 
kingdom  and  their  ancestors  here  in  Kajana?  What  one 
of  them  all  could  compare  with  you  in  courage!  ” 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

how  Finland’s  last  fortress  fell. 

IT  was  a bitter  cold  morning  in  January,  1716.  The 
commandant  at  Kajana  Castle,  Major  Fieandt,  had 
called  a council  of  war  in  the  middle  archway.  Do  not 
imagine  a brilliant  staff  in  decorated  uniforms.  It  was 
the  garrison  of  the  castle,  or  as  many  of  them  as  were 
not  for  the  moment  needed  on  the  walls.  What  an  as- 
semblage! About  twenty  starved  and  ragged  figures, 
chilled  through,  tired  to  death,  and  still  bleeding,  after 
having  with  the  courage  of  desperation  repulsed  the 
last  storm,  which  had  continued  nearly  all  night.  All 
the  provisions  of  the  castle  and  all  its  stock  of  wood 
were  exhausted.  They  had  slaughtered  the  last  cow, 
they  had  cut  to  pieces  the  last  bench;  yes,  they  had  even 
taken  the  children’s  beds  to  keep  up  the  fire.  It  was 
so  cold  that  their  breath  mounted  like  smoke  from  their 
lips  and  their  hands  stuck  to  the  barrels  of  their  mus- 
kets. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  enemy  had  de- 
manded of  them  to  surrender  at  discretion.  The  com- 
mandant considered  himself  under  obligation  to  advise 
the  garrison  of  this,  but  it  was  plain  from  his  look  that 


312 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII 


he  did  it  less  for  the  sake  of  asking  advice  than  as  a 
merited  tribute  of  respect  to  brave  men  who  had  dearly 
bought  the  honor  of  saying  what  their  fate  should  be. 

One  of  the  partisans  who  had  lately  arrived,  arose 
and  counseled  the  acceptance  of  the  enemy’s  proposal. 
He  had  brought  with  him  sad  tidings  from  the  west. 
The  Finnish  post  at  Kemi  had,  just  before  Christmas, 
been  attacked  and  blown  up.  As  a punishment  to  the 
peasants  for  their  defence,  and  since  the  province  of 
Osterbotten  would  not  take  the  oath  of  allegiance, 
strict  orders  had  been  issued  to  lay  waste  all  the  region 
lying  south  of  Kemi  and  to  carry  away  the  children 
and  youth  into  captivity.  On  account  of  the  deep 
snow  it  was  difficult  to  execute  this  order  in  the  wooded 
tracts,  but  a beginning  had  been  made  in  Limingo, 
where  there  wTere  no  woods,  and  farther  down  at 
Ypperby  in  Pyhajoki.  A longer  resistance  would  draw 
down  upon  the  district  about  Kajana  the  same  fate. 
He,  the  speaker,  cared  no  more  for  his  life  than  for  a 
wad  already  shot  away,  but  he  did  not  wish  to  have  the 
destruction  of  thousands  on  his  conscience. 

“ What  is  the  major’s  opinion?  ” enquired  Fieandt 
of  Bertelskold,  who,  somewhat  strengthened  by  medi- 
cine and  rest,  was  present  at  the  council. 

“ My  opinion,”  said  the  wounded  man,  “ is  that  we 
must  do  our  duty.  The  king  has  sent  us  word  to  hold 
out  as  long  as  we  can , and  every  one  of  us  knows  what 
that  means.  Have  we  powder?  ” 

“That  is  the  only  thing  we  have,”  answered  Fieandt 
with  a shrug. 

“Then  I think,”  said  Bertelskold,  “that  brave  Caro- 
lins  will  not  puzzle  over  unnecessary  words.  We  will  let 
them  storm  once  more,  we  will  barricade  the  middle 
vault,  and  when  the  castle  is  filled  with  the  enemy  we 
will  blow  ourselves  and  them  into  the  air.” 

“ Exactly  so,”  responded  Fieandt,  coldly.  “ That 
is  also  my  opinion.  Is  there  any  one  else  who  has  any- 
thing to  propose?” 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A HA  ME. 


313 


“ I have,”  answered  the  priest  Cajanus.  “ In  the 
castle  there  are,  besides  the  wounded,  more  than 
seventy  women  and  children.  I propose  that  we  first 
send  them  out  of  the  castle;  not  to  General  Tschekin, 
but  to  Colonel  Mannstein.  I know  him;  he  is  kind  and 
humane;  he  will  spare  them.  I will  remain  with  you; 
before  the  torch  is  applied  to  the  powder  vault,  we  will 
partake  of  the  Lord’s  Supper.” 

A murmur  arose  among  those  present.  “ Why  should 
we  send  out  our  women  to  dishonor  and  our  children  to 
slavery?  Rather  let  them  all  die  with  us.” 

Eva  Rhenfelt,  still  in  her  male  attire,  had  stolen  out 
on  hearing  the  priest’s  proposition,  and  now  returned 
with  new  members  of  the  council.  They  were  the 
women  and  children — a sight  that  can  be  imagined,  not 
described.  A mere  glance  at  these  innocent  beings, 
now  faint  and  exhausted  by  weeping,  drew  tears  to  the 
eyes  of  the  austere  warriors.  “ Surrender  ! surrender  ! ” 
cried  the  mothers,  as  they  sought  with  their  cold  bosoms 
to  warm  their  stiffened  darlings. 

'‘Away  with  the  women  ! Away  with  the  children  ! 
Unlucky  was  the  day  when  I permitted  them  to  seek 
refuge  in  the  castle?”  exclaimed  Fieandt. 

But  they  did  not  go.  They  clung  fast  to  the  men’s 
garments,  and  continued  without  cessation  the  heart- 
rending prayer,  “Surrender!  surrender!  We  will  not 
be  sent  over  to  the  enemy.  We  would  rather  die  here 
with  you!  ” 

“Away  with  you!”  ordered  the  commandant,  in 
the  same  harsh  tone,  and  turned  away  that  no  one 
might  see  the  traitorous  tear  in  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

“ Do  you  hear  that  ? Do  you  hear  that  ? ” screamed 
one  of  the  mothers,  beside  herself  with  rage.  “ Away 
with  us!  Do  you  know  why  he  says  that?  Yes,  be- 
cause he  has  twice  run  away  from  the  enemy.  He 
knows  that  he  has  no  mercy  to  expect  himself,  and  so 
he  will  drag  us  all  to  destruction.” 

Fieandt  turned  pale.  He  had  not  thought  of  that. 

14 


314 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


He,  the  spotless  hero,  would  be  charged  with  having 
offered  innocent  blood  to  his  own  despair.  “ What  is 
that  you  say,  crazy  woman?”  he  cried. 

An  indescribable  commotion  arose  among  the 
noisy  crowd.  “ Powder!  Powder,  and  no  tears!  ” was 
Bertelskold’s  word.  At  the  same  time  his  eye  fell  upon 
the  slender  youth  with  the  dark  hair  and  the  flashing 
eyes.  “ What  is  your  opinion  ?”  he  whispered,  embar- 
rassed and  unable  to  endure  the  loved  one’s  look. 

“ I desire  nothing  for  myself,  nothing  even  for 
you!”  whispered  Eva  in  return.  “ But  think  of  these 
unfortunate  people.  A surrender  in  extreme  need  and 
upon  honorable  terms  never  yet  stained  a soldier’s 
reputation.” 

The  priest  Cajanus  heard  these  words.  “ I pro- 
pose,” said  he,  “to  spring  the  powder-vault,  provided 
they  offer  us  nothing  better  than  unconditional  sur- 
render. But  if  they  will  allow  us  free  exit,  the  soldiers 
to  retain  their  arms  and  the  rest  their  own  personal 
effects,  we  might  surrender.” 

“ Women  and  priests!  ” exclaimed  the  commandant, 
bitterly.  “ The  king  did  not  put  me  in  possession  of 
Finland’s  last  fortress  that  I might  give  it  away.” 

“ Powder!  Powder!  ” repeated  Bertelskold. 

“ He  has  also  run  away  from  the  enemy!”  burst 
out  the  despairing  mother.  “ Wo,  wo  unto  these  mili- 
tary gentlemen!  They  will  drag  us  with  them.  Our 
blood  be  upon  them!  ” 

“Do  you  hear  that?”  whispered  the  youth  in  Ber- 
telskold’s ear. 

“ Bread!  Bread!  ” cried  the  children,  and  their  little 
lips  were  blue  with  cold  and  their  teeth  chattered. 

“ Come,”  said  Fieandt  to  Bertelskold,  sadly.  “ I 
cannot  stand  it  any  longer.  Let  us  commend  our  souls 
to  God,  and  blow  ourselves  all  into  eternity.  Seven 
barrels  of  powder  are  below.  It  is  a second’s  work. 
Come!” 

Bertelskold  followed.  But  the  giant  boy,  Daniel 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME . 


315 


Cajanus,  placed  himself  in  their  way.  “ Give  me  the 
match,”  whispered  he,  boldly,  “and  I promise  not  to 
miss  fire.  But  not  before  my  mother  and  my  brothers 
and  sisters  are  out  of  the  castle.” 

“Do  you  dare  to  interfere?”  burst  out  Fieandt,  in 
exasperation.  “ Out  of  the  way,  boy!  ” 

“ Not  a step  before  my  mother  and  my  brothers 
and  sisters  are  beyond  the  gates!  ” continued  the  boy, 
in  the  same  tone,  and  blocked  the  door  with  his  im- 
mense frame. 

Fieandt  drew  his  sword.  His  arm  was  always 
swifter  than  his  tongue.  All  would  have  been  over 
with  Peldamo’s  giant  if  Bertelskold  had  not  stayed  the 
uplifted  arm. 

“Let  us  make  a sally  from  the  south  gate!”  he 
whispered.  “That  will  be  better.  During  the  time 
the  boy  can  slip  the  women  out  through  the  north 
gate,  and  afterwards  keep  his  promise  with  the  pow- 
der-room.” 

“Let  it  be  so,”  said  Fieandt.  “There  are  not 
twenty  of  us  that  can  draw  a sword,  but  quite  enough 
to  fall  in  good  company.” 

Just  then  the  report  came  from  the  walls  that  the 
enemy  in  thick  black  masses  were  pressing  forward  on 
the  ice  to  renew  the  storm  from  the  east  side,  where 
the  wearied  garrison  were  no  longer  able  to  keep  open 
the  holes  in  the  ice  on  account  of  the  intense  cold. 
The  west  side,  which  lay  towards  Amma,  was  inacces- 
sible; on  the  north  and  south  sides  the  river  flowed 
with  such  strong  currents  around  the  castle’s  little 
island,  that  the  ice  was  extremely  weak  and  offered  to 
every  larger  troop  that  approached  it  a certain  grave. 

The  council  of  war  was  broken  up ; each  one 
hastened  again  to  his  post,  but  it  was  with  palsied  arms 
and  broken  hearts. 

A flag  of  truce  appeared,  and  asked  for  the  last 
time  if  the  castle  would  capitulate. 

“Yes!”  shouted  the  priest  Cajanus,  so  loud  that 


316 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


all  heard  it.  “We  capitulate,  but  only  on  condition 
that  we  have  free  exit  with  our  families,  our  side  arms 
and  our  private  property.” 

“Yes,  yes;  we  surrender!”  shrieked  the  same  ma- 
tron who  had  but  just  before  been  so  severe  on  the 
commander  of  the  castle. 

Fieandt  was  about  to  protest  with  a thundering 
no,  when  Cajanus  seized  him  by  the  arm  and  silently 
pointed  to  a corner  at  the  side  of  the  bastion.  A 
woman  sat  there  with  her  child  on  her  breast.  They 
did  not  stir;  they  complained  no  more.  They  had 
starved  and  frozen  to  death. 

Fieandt  surrendered. 

Contrary  to  expectation,  the  enemy  accepted  the 
conditions.  They  did  not  know,  in  Kajana  Castle,  that 
if  they  had  been  able  to  hold  out  a week  longer  the 
enemy  would  have  been  obliged  to  raise  the  siege. 

Such  frightful  devastation  had  sickness  made 
among  the  closely- packed  masses  in  the  circumscribed 
camp  that  a longer  delay  would  probably  have  brought 
with  it  the  annihilation  of  the  entire  hostile  force.  If 
one  may  believe  the  statements  of  contemporaries,  the 
little  castle  of  Kajana  had  cost  the  besiegers  about 
four  thousand  men. 

Surrender!  What  a hateful  ring  has  this  word  in 
the  warrior’s  ears!  Never  was  a surrender  more  justi- 
fiable than  here,  and  yet  Kajana  Castle’s  few  and 
brave  defenders  sorrowed  all  the  rest  of  their  lives  that 
they  had  not  been  granted  the  honorable  fate  which 
befell  so  many  other  of  the  Carolins’  strongholds,  to  be 
at  once  the  grave  of  themselves  and  thousands  of  their 
enemies. 

Straw  was  spread  on  the  weak  ice  on  both  arms  of 
the  river,  water  thrown  upon  it  and  allowed  to  freeze, 
and  afterwards  the  road  was  strengthened  with  beams 
and  planks.  Over  this  improvised  bridge  the  defenders 
marched  out  and  the  besiegers  marched  in.  Valiant 
officers  in  the  enemy’s  ranks  scarcely  believed  their 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


317 


eyes  when  they  saw  this  little,  ragged,  enervated  band, 
which  for  a whole  month  had  defended  Kajana  Castle, 
and  counted  among  them  at  least  three  old  men, 
women,  and  children,  to  every  one  capable  of  bearing 
arms.  General  Tschekin’s  exasperation  knew  no 
bounds.  They  say  that  he  would  have  cut  them  all 
down  on  the  spot  if  Colonel  Mannstein  had  not  un- 
buckled his  sword  and  sworn  to  quit  the  service  if  he 
permitted  such  conduct.  The  history  of  those  times  is 
full  of  such  deeds  of  violence;  it  is  certain  that  Tsche- 
kin,  without  respect  for  these,  the  bravest  of  the  brave, 
in  a cowardly  manner  violated  the  terms  of  the  capitu- 
lation. In  the  meantime  Mannheim’s  word  prevailed; 
most  of  the  prisoners  had  their  lives  spared,  but  were 
carried  away  plundered  and  half-naked  in  the  extreme 
cold.  The  priest  Cajanus,  who  was  charged  with 
having  encouraged  the  garrison  to  resist  to  the  utmost, 
was,  with  his  mother-in-law  and  her  children,  carried  a 
prisoner  to  Abo  Castle. 

By  Mannstein’s  order  the  wounded  Bertelskold 
received  a sled  and  was  carried  away  with  the  rest.  By 
his  side  walked  among  the  other  prisoners  the  slender 
youth,  the  old  Tobias,  and  the  giant-boy  Daniel.  The 
latter  looked  back  so  often  that  the  major  finally 
asked  him  if  he  thought  it  was  pleasant  to  see  his  an- 
cestral castle  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

“ No,”  said  the  boy.  “ I am  merely  curious  to  see 
whether  they  have  kindled  a fire  in  father’s  room  in  the 
north  tower.” 

“ And  how  does  that  concern  us  now  ?” 

“ O,  not  particularly.  Only  I broke  a hole  through 
the  hearth  and  the  door  beneath  it,  and  put  in  a couple 
of  fuses  leading  down  to  the  powder  vault.  It  is,  as 
the  major  knows,  right  under  it.” 

“ Boy,  what  have  you  done!” 

“ Nothing.  Only  kept  my  word.” 

Meanwhile,  nothing  was  heard  that  day.  But  the 
next  morning,  when  the  prisoners  and  their  guard  were 


318 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


resting  about  twelve  miles  from  the  castle,  the  earth 
shook  and  a subdued  peal  like  distant  thunder  was 
heard,  a flame  like  lightning  colored  the  sky,  and  a 
thick,  dark  cloud  of  smoke  and  dust  arose  above  the 
horizon  in  the  direction  of  the  castle.  Then  the  giant- 
boy  knit  his  hands  convulsively  together,  and  it  was  as 
if  one  saw  in  his  eyes  a reflection  of  that  vanished  flash 
which  had  lighted  up  Peldamo’s  gray  winter  sky. 

“ What  was  that  ?”  asked  the  prisoners  in  amaze- 
ment. 

The  giant-boy  clenched  his  teeth,  and  with  indes- 
cribable glee  whispered  in  Finnish:  “ It  was  Kajana 
Castle  jumping  into  the  air.” 

“Yes,”  said  Bertelskold  sorrowfully,  “it  was  the 
fall  of  Finland’s  last  fortress!” 

Thus  ended  the  short  story  of  Kajana  Castle.  Of 
its  ruins  there  remain  to  this  day  the  walls,  which  serve 
for  supports  to  a bridge  by  which  the  road  leads  across 
the  stream  from  the  city  of  Kajana  to  the  church  in 
Peldamo.  To  this  day  the  fir-grown  hights  look  sadly 
down  on  the  theatre  of  Finland’s  last  struggle  during 
the  calamities  of  the  great  war;  even  to  this  day  one 
seems  at  times  to  see  Fieandt’s  valorous  shadow,  sor- 
rowing, stand  upon  the  ruined  arches;  even  to  this  day 
there  wanders  the  giant-boy’s  ghost  with  a burning 
brand,  seeking  the  vault  where  the  hidden  force  of  the 
powder’s  element  held  the  fate  of  the  castle;  and  even 
to  this  day  the  subdued  roar  of  the  Amma  repeats  the 
story  of  the  fall  of  the  castle  and  of  the  exploits  of  the 
Carolins  in  the  far  north. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


319 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE  MOLE-TRACK  AT  THE  FOOT  OF  A COLOSSUS. 


HEY  amuse  themselves  finely  in  there!”  whis- 


pered  one  of  two  travelers,  clad  in  furs,  who 
one  evening  in  February,  1718,  went  back  and  forth 
before  the  brightly  illuminated  windows  of  one  of  the 
larger  houses  in  Christinehamn. 

“ It  is  indeed  a perfect  display!”  responded  his  com- 
panion, with  a foreign  accent.  “ Why  are  not  the  win- 
dow curtains  closed  ?” 

“ It  is  a wedding.  The  princess  marries  her  wait- 
ing-maid, Eleonora  Uttermark,  to  David  Gedda,  master 
of  the  armory.  You  see,  my  dear  Siquier,  that  I am 
well  informed,  although  we  arrived  in  town  not  more 
than  a half  hour  since.  It  is  the  custom  in  our  country 
not  to  let  down  the  curtains  at  a wedding.  It  would  be 
regarded  an  evil  omen  for  conjugal  felicity.  And  our 
majesty  is  pleased  with  old  customs — when  he  does 
not  find  it  more  convenient  to  use  new  ones.” 

“ Just  look!  see  how  they  run  there,  like  wild  hens! 
I confess  if  that  is  intended  to  represent  a dance,  it 
does  not  give  me  an  especially  high  opinion  of  the  ad- 
vancement of  the  fine  art  in  your  fatherland.” 

“ Once  for  all,  sir  colonel,  put  Versailles  out  of  your 
mind  when  you  come  to  Sweden.  We  took  our  pas  de 
deus  and  our  pas  de  quatre  at  Drottingholm  when  the 
times  were  better:  that  is,  when  his  majesty  was  pleased 
to  impale  the  janizaries  at  Bender.  But  it  is  now  all 
over  with  the  ballet;  our  unsurpassable  King  Arthur  of 
the  round  table  is  stronger  in  his  arms  than  in  his  legs; 
and  therefore  the  court  now  amuses  itself  playing 
blind-man’s-buff,  hunt-the-slipper,  and  such  antediluvian 


320 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


games.  Our  majesty  is,  as  it  were,  created  for  blind- 
man’s-buff  ; no  one  understands  better  than  he  the  art 
of  letting  himself  be  lured;  and  they  lure  him  to  their 
heart’s  content.  One  cries  to  him:  ‘Puh!  here  is  the 
Polish  crown!’  and  he  immediately  rushes  thither  with 
the  blinder  over  his  eyes.  The  second  cries:  ‘ Puh! 
here  is  the  great  Mogul’s  beard!’  and  he  runs  there. 
The  third:  ‘ Puh!  here  is  the  key  to  Copenhagen!’  and 
there  he  goes.  The  fourth  whispers:  ‘ Puh!  here  are  the 
steps  to  England’s  throne!’  and  he  makes  haste  to 
gambol  over  all  the  North  Sea.  Yet  no  one  has  lured 
him  in  so  masterly  a manner  as  a certain  neighbor,  who, 
to  be  sure,  omits  saying  ‘puh!’  but  instead  takes  one 
pawn  after  another  in  the  game.” 

“ I am  afraid,  my  dear  count,  that  the  king  has  now 
at  his  side  a man  who  lifts  up  the  blinder  a little  and 
sees  clearer  than  any  of  us.” 

“ Possibly.  But  it  is  also  certain  that  that  same 
man  is  the  greatest  of  puh-shriekers.  It  is  he  who  has 
taken  upon  himself,  for  the  good  of  all  of  us,  to  entice 
the  blindfolded  king  head  foremost  against  the  wall. 
Let  him  be  sustained!” 

Siquier  looked  at  his  companion  in  amazement.  “ I 
have  long  known,”  said  he,  “ that  Count  Bertelskold, 
with  perhaps  one  more  dangerous  exception,  is  the 
most  dangerous  spider  in  the  neighborhood  of  a royal 
blind-fly;  but  I could  not  imagine  that  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  entangling  even  Baron  . . .” 

“ Sh ! We  are  on  the  open  street,  and  the  very 
stones  are  enchanted  with  the  royal  heel  that  tramps 
upon  them.  Fi  done , Siquier,  you  have  been  too  long 
in  the  school  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  When  one 
bribes  half  the  world,  in  order  to  find  out  and  betray 
the  other  half,  he  becomes  at  last  a poor  judge  of 
human  nature.  Money  is  much,  mon  colonel , but  passion 
is  more.  It  is  necessary  to  know  how  to  use  the  one 
and  to  make  the  other  harmless.  Gortz — the  devil,  I 
speak  amiss — I mean  Jernskrap,  is  a man  who  with 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME . 


321 


unusual  sagacity  unites  uncommonly  strong  passions. 
He  is  a man  who  is  one  half  ambition,  three-eighths  envy 
and  one-eighth  hate.  We  have  no  power  against  him, 
but  let  him  be  sustained  ! He  plays  into  our  hands  ! ” 

“ I doubt  it.  But  look,  there  is  the  king,  there  by 
the  window.  A good  French  musket  and  a pair  of  swift 
balls  from  where  we  now  stand,  and  the  fate  of  the 
North  would  be  changed  ! ” 

“ That  is  the  worst  jest  you  have  spoken,  Siquier, 
since  we  left  the  court  of  Orleans.  Here  in  Sweden  we 
do  not  kill  our  lions, — we  let  them  chase  themselves  to 
death  ! ” 

“As  you  please.  He  is  looking  at  us.  Come,  let  us 
step  farther  to  one  side  ! ” 

“ My  dear  colonel,  if  it  were  not  so  highly  improba- 
ble, I should  think  you  were  troubled  by  a guilty  con- 
science. It  is  brilliantly  lighted  in  there,  and  we  are 
here  in  blinding  darkness.  I see  there, — well,  by  the 
Sultan’s  beard,  it  is  our  majesty  in  his  own  person  who 
has  seized  hold  of  the  princess’s  arm.  Poor  princess  ! 
You  ought  to  know,  my  friend,  that  the  princess  is  rather 
proud  of  her  beautiful  arms  and  hands;  it  is  in  fact  the 
only  thing  handsome  that  one  has  ever  been  able  to  de- 
tect in  her.  But  I have  heard  the  court  surgeon  de- 
clare that,  whenever  there  were  games  at  the  court,  he 
took  the  precaution  to  carry  with  him  a bottle  of  lead- 
water,  for  the  evening  seldom  passed  without  the 
princess  receiving  two  or  three  bruises  at  least,  as  sou- 
venirs of  fraternal  tenderness.  For  other  ladies’ bare 
arms  his  majesty  has  a certain  shyness.  But  there  is 
one  that  has  it  not,  and  that  is  his  highness  the  Prince 
of  Hesse — no,  just  see  there,  he  is  chasing  the  bride — 
ah,  he  does  it  with  the  finesse  which  only  such  a dexter- 
ous hunter  is  capable  of.  Diable  ! in  the  end  I shall 
have  to  keep  poor  Gedda  in  good  spirits,  for  why  need 
I conceal  the  fact  that  I arranged  this  match  so  as  to 
have  one  ear  in  the  princess’s  bed-chamber  and  the  other 
in  his  majesty’s  army  ....  Mille  tonnerres!” 

Y 


322 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII . 


“ What  is  the  matter  with  you?  Your  voice  trem- 
bles.” 

“ I?  You  deceive  yourself.” 

“ Nay,  I pray  you,  do  not  get  nearer  the  lights. 
Who  are  you  looking  at  so  attentively?  Ah,  I under- 
stand. A woman — rather  pale,  with  fascinating  black 
eyes  . . . . You  do  not  answer  me,  Sir  Count.  Permit 
me  to  repeat  your  own  compliment:  fi  done,  a diplomat 
like  Count  Torsten  Bertelskold,  and  smitten  by  two 
black  eyes!  ” 

Bertelskold  did  not  reply.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
one  of  the  windows. 

“ She  approaches  the  king,”  continued  the  French- 
man in  a tone  of  levity.  “ I understand  ; it  is  one  of 
those  moths  that  are  singeing  their  wings  in  the  flame  of 
the  candle.  The  king  turns  about,  he  seems  surprised, 
embarrassed  ....  She  addresses  him  ....  By  the 
sun  of  France,  the  woman  must  speak  bold  words,  for 
the  play  all  around  her  stops  and  all  look  at  her  with 
anxiety.  What  can  she  say  to  him?  ” 

“ I must  find  out,”  muttered  Bertelskold  between 
his  teeth,  and  with  hasty  steps  approached  the  door  of 
the  royal  headquarters. 

“ Permit  me  to  remind  you,”  whispered  the  French- 
man anxiously,  “ that  our  interests  to-morrow  demand 
an  incognito .” 

“ It  can  be  no  other  than  she  ....  but  if  it  is  she, 
then  is  he  also  here  ....  I must  know  positively  about 
it,”  continued  Bertelskold,  and  he  already  stood  in  the 
door  when  Siquier  seized  him  by  the  arm. 

“One  word,”  said  the  Frenchman.  “When  one 
wishes  to  overcome  an  adversary  consisting  of  one-half 
ambition,  three-eighths  envy,  and  one-eighth  hate,  he 
ought  not  himself  to  be  seven-eighths  infatuation  and 
the  remainder  diplomacy.” 

“ Go  to  the  devil,  sir  ! ” was  what  was  on  Bertel- 
skold’s  lips.  But  it  flew  away  in  an  ironical  smile,  and 
he  only  said:  “ That  reveals,  my  dear  Siquier,  that  you 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME . 


323 


have  just  come  from  Amourette’s  court.  You  mistake 
our  northern  emotions.  What  you  take  for  sunshine  is 
only  frosty  northern-lights, — and  a frozen  tear,”  he 
added  almost  unconsciously  to  himself.  “ But  you 
are  right,”  he  continued,  “it  is  better  that  we  return 
to  the  hotel;  a crowd  will  be  gathered  there.  Our 
majesty  cannot  bear  drinking  and  gambling  ; but  of  an 
evening  when  King  Arthur  plays  leap-frog  about  the 
round  table,  then  the  knights  of  the  round  table  think 
they  can  do  the  same  about  the  ale-can.  We  may  get 
some  news  while  we  take  our  supper  in  the  next  room.” 

Said  and  done.  The  gentlemen  soon  found  them- 
selves in  the  overfilled  public-house,  where  they  obtained 
a small  room  that  opened  into  the  public  saloon.  The 
company  in  the  latter  place  consisted  mostly  of  under- 
officers  who  had  taken  the  day  to  enjoy  themselves  and 
were  already  pretty  noisy  from  Shrove-Tuesday’s  ale. 

“Heroism!”  shouted  one  of  the  good  fellows;  “we 
shall  soon  have  thirty-five  thousand  men;  now  we  ought 
to  drub  the  Jutlander!” 

“ The  whole  world,  Maths  Stang,  the  whole  world!” 
answered  one  of  the  crowd.  “ First  we  will  crack  the 
Jutlander,  and  then  the  Saxon,  and  the  Prussian,  and 
the  Polander,  and  the  Russian,  and  the  Englishman  who 
injures  our  ships,  and  then  the  grand  Turk  that  told  us 
to  go  to  the  devil.  Carolus  vivat!  ” 

“No,  we  will  let  the  grand  Turk  alone,”  cried 
another.  “He  is  more  of  a Christian  than  many  others. 
He  took  a whipping  of  us  and  afterwards  kissed  our 
boots.  My  opinion  is  that  the  king  ought  to  take  the 
German  sausage  first  and  the  French  raisins  afterwards. 
That  would  only  be  a priming  for  the  king ; he  can  do 
what  he  will.  In  Paris,  brother,  by  my  spurs,  we  would 
dance  about  with  the  beauties  till  summer,  and  every 
capable  man  would  be  a duke  at  least.” 

“ Just  listen,”  whispered  Siquier,  nettled,  “this  Car- 
olinian peasant  ale  sparkles  as  if  it  were  champagne.” 

“ The  fellows  have  studied  history  better  than  we,” 


324 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


remarked  Bertelskold,  smiling.  “It  has  happened  once 
before  that  one  of  these  ale-funnels  took  it  upon  him- 
self to  be  Duke  of  Normandy.” 

Just  then  one  who  had  been  relieved  as  watch  at 
headquarters  came  in.  “ Have  you  heard  the  news, 
boys  ?”  he  cried.  “ The  devil  himself  rules  the  women- 
folks now-a-days.” 

“ What  is  it?  ” shouted  several  voices. 

“ Hand  along  a can  of  ale  first ; I am  as  cold  as  a 
Finnish  wolf  and  as  thirsty  as  a Muscovite.  Yes,  I 
have  just  come  from  the  king,  and  it  run  through  all  the 
headquarters  as  a true  tale,  that  a Satan  of  a woman, 
who  was  called  Rhen — , Rhen — , all  the  same  whatever 
the  rest  was  ; anyhow,  she  had  lately  escaped  from 
captivity  among  the  Muscovites,  and  Satan  put  it  into 
her  head  that  as  soon  as  she  met  the  king  she  should 
ask  him  what  he  had  done  with  Finland.  We  have  in- 
deed lost  more  fields  than  the  Lapland  huts  stand  on. 
Well,  then, — does  the  devil  ride  you,  Stang,  that  you 
snatch  my  ale-can  out  of  my  hands? — she  met  the  king 
this  evening,  and  the  first  thing  she  said  to  him  was : 
‘Your  majesty,  what  have  you  done  with  Finland?'  Yes, 
it  is  not  well  to  grumble  when  one  looks  Carolus  in 
the  eye,  but  she  said  it.” 

“And  what  did  the  king  answer?  I wager  that  he 
said:  ‘ Remember  your  manners  ! ’ ” 

“Yes,  the  most  wonderful  part  is  that  the  king 
merely  swung  on  his  heel  and  said  nothing.” 

“ What  the  devil  could  he  say  to  such  a shrewish 
question?  By  my  scabbard,  what  deviltry  in  a 
woman  ! ” 

“ It  is  she!”  thought  Bertelskold  to  himself.  “What 
a woman!  And  she  might  have  been  mine!” 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


325 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A REVIEW  AND  A MEETING. 

IT  is  with  a melancholy  interest  that  one  beholds 
Charles  XII,  in  the  evening  of  his  heroic  career, 
playing  blindfold  games  and  hunt-the-slipper  with  the 
gay  court  at  Christinehamn.  It  was  the  last  time  that 
he  was  surrounded  by  that  sunshine  of  joy,  which 
other  mortals  seek,  and  without  which  they  are  unable 
to  live.  It  was  the  last  time  that  a sister’s  soft  hand 
touched  his  own  hard  palm,  which  had  grown  stiff  in 
clasping  the  sword-hilt,  and  that  the  boyish  cheerful- 
ness of  a sister’s  son  mingled  with  warlike  sounds; — 
the  last  time  that  gentle,  tender  feelings  played  around 
him,  who  stood  at  such  an  elevation  above  humanity 
that  its  joys  as  well  as  its  sorrows  seemed,  to  rebound 
without  response,  from  his  mailed  breast.  This 
glimpse  of  sunshine  disappeared,  never  to  return. 
From  that  time  the  evening  of  this  solitary  greatness 
had  only  shadows  and  flashes  ending  in  a black  night, 
with  a thunderbolt  from  a murderer’s  hand. 

At  three  o’clock  in  the  morning,  after  the  evening 
of  which  we  have  had  a glimpse  in  the  foregoing  chap- 
ter, the  king  had  already  arisen  from  the  mattress  of 
straw,  his  field-bed,  said  a short  prayer,  and  the  cham- 
berlain had  lighted  the  wax  candles.  It  was  tolerably 
cold  in  the  room;  to  roast  himself  before  a glowing 
fire  was  not  to  the  king’s  taste.  The  page  slept  still, 
half-clad,  upon  the  floor.  The  king  let  the  light  shine 
upon  him  a moment,  smiled  as  he  was  only  accustomed 
to  do  when  alone  with  his  thoughts,  spread  his  cloak 
over  the  sleeping  youth,  and  seated  himself  to  read  in 
King  Gustaf  Adolf’s  prayer-book  which  he  always 


326 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


carried  with  him.  Every  morning  he  read  two  chap- 
ters in  the  Bible,  and  in  1708  had  read  the  Old  and 
the  New  Testament  through  four  times,  but  after  that 
he  kept  no  account  for  fear  he  should  seem  to  boast  of 
it.  So  one  sees  it  was  possible  for  Charles  XII  to 
fear.  For  some  time  now  the  Bible  had  given  way  to 
the  shorter  prayer-book.  It  was  argued  that  the  so- 
ciety of  the  philosopher  Leibnitz,  at  Leipsic,  and  his 
stay  afterward  among  the  infidels,  had  modified  his 
strictly  orthodox  Lutheran  faith.  However  this  may 
have  been,  his  unfeigned  piety  continued  the  same  to 
the  end  of  his  life,  a model  for  kings  and  people,  and 
a power  which  sustained  him  in  all  vicissitudes,  giving 
him  moderation  in  the  days  of  his  prosperity,  and 
courage  strong  as  iron  in  the  days  of  his  adversity. 

It  was  not  yet  four  o’clock  when  Baron  Gortz,  who 
occupied  two  rooms  in  the  same  house,  came  in  and 
worked  with  the  king  until  eight  o’clock,  when  break- 
fast, consisting  of  a single  course  of  meat  and  a cup  of 
milk,  was  hastily  served  on  tin  plates,  with  knives  and 
forks  of  iron,  a domestic  manufacture  of  Polhem’s  in- 
vention. There  was  no  longer  any  silver;  it  had  all 
gone  to  the  mint;  even  the  queen-dowager  and  the 
princess  for  several  years  ate  from  tin,  but  when  the 
king  on  his  return  noticed  it  he  was  distressed  on 
account  of  it,  and  Feif,  the  summer  before,  had  pre- 
vailed upon  Tessin  to  make,  as  if  it  were  his  own 
thought,  a little  silver  service  for  the  ladies.  The  meal 
lasted  hardly  ten  minutes,  after  which  the  king  rode 
out  to  review  the  troops,  who,  in  the  midst  of  a violent 
snow-storm,  were  drawn  up  on  the  square.  His  sharp 
eye  scanned  the  ranks  as  though  he  would  discover 
any  who  winced  before  the  icy  wind.  Pleased  to  find 
them  almost  as  indifferent  as  himself,  he  began  to  in- 
spect each  one  separately.  Nearly  all  were  boys  be- 
tween fifteen  and  twenty  years  old,  biting  their  teeth 
together  that  no  one  might  notice  how  they  quaked 
with  the  cold;  the  officers  only  were  old  Carolins, 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME, . 


327 


proved  by  a hundred  battles,  the  last  remains  of  an 
army  that  had  once  caused  Europe  to  tremble.  They 
drilled,  they  went  through  their  evolutions.  Their 
lines,  as  they  wheeled,  were  often  crooked,  their  mus- 
kets were  not  always  borne  at  the  same  angle,  their 
feet  were  not  always  lifted  as  precisely  on  the  same 
line  as  though  they  were  connected  by  a steel  wire, 
their  hats  did  not  always  sit  according  to  regulation, 
their  coats  were  not  always  properly  buttoned;  but 
such  things  did  not  worry  generals  of  Charles  XII’s 
school.  The  main  point  was  that  the  command  was 
understood  instantly  and  obeyed  promptly,  but  not 
mechanically,  like  marionettes,  but  so  that  eye,  ear, 
hand  and  heart  were  in  it,  and  the  lowest  soldier,  when 
he  executed  an  order,  felt  himself  his  own  commander. 
The  habit  for  long  years  of  contending  with  enemies 
of  superior  numbers,  where  the  rule  was  that  each  man 
had  three,  five,  even  ten  against  him,  had  cultivated  in 
the  warriors  of  Charles  XII  that  personal  consciousness 
which  made  of  every  soldier  an  army,  and  which  con- 
tained the  conditions  for  and  the  explanation  of  their 
victories.  It  was  Frederick  II  who  discovered  and 
Napoleon  who  perfected  the  tactics  of  masses  which 
have  been  adopted  as  the  basis  of  the  modern  art  of  war. 
But  Charles  XII,  “the  last  knight,”  still  fought  accord- 
ing to  the  old  fashion  of  knights,  and  although  Gustaf 
Adolf  had  taught  him  the  maxim,  “ all  for  one,”  he  added 
to  it,  from  Tiberup  even  to  Fredrikshall,  his  own  favor- 
ite maxim,  “one  for  all.”  From  this  it  followed  that 
everyone’s  duty,  knight  or  peasant’s,  was  to  stand  as  his 
king  stood,  and  strike  out  of  the  Swedish  dictionary  the 
word  impossible.  They  endeavored  to  do  this,  and  it 
was  on  this  account  that  all  finally  went  to  pieces;  but 
as  long  as  it  held  or  could  hold  together,  the  rawest 
recruit  felt  himself  doubly  strong  through  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  right  and  his  duty  to  answer  for 
himself. 

In  consequence  of  these  principles,  Charles  XII 


328 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


inspected  each  man  more  closely  than  he  reviewed  the 
whole;  his  father,  Charles  XI,  was  renowned  for  his 
art  of  drilling  soldiers,  and  Charles  XII  had  done  honor 
to  his  teaching.  Time  after  time  he  called  one  and  an- 
other out  of  the  ranks,  and  had  him  alone  and  inde- 
pendently execute  the  ordered  movements;  it  was  not 
well  to  fail  when  the  king  cried:  “Are  you  loitering 
there  ? ” Oaths,  although  they  had  already  been  brought 
in  with  other  French  customs,  were  no  part  of  Charles 
XII’s  military  exercises.  Although  there  was  no  lack 
of  reproofs,  the  king  seemed  to  day  to  be  in  the  best  of 
spirits.  Next  to  the  trenches  and  the  hail  of  bullets, 
nothing  suited  him  better  than  to  be  in  the  snow  and 
rain  in  front  of  resolute  ranks.  There  was  something 
at  this  moment  which,  more  than  ever  before,  enlivened 
his  thoughts  and  fired  his  heart  with  new  hopes.  The 
improbable  had  come  to  pass;  the  bleeding  country, 
wearied  to  death,  had  organized  a fully  equipped  army, 
of  which,  under  such  a leader,  one  might  again  expect 
everything.  Astonished  Europe  could  scarcely  believe 
its  eyes.  With  the  report  of  these  equipments  there 
flew  about  rumors  of  Baron  Gortz’s  dangerous  plans. 
What  might  not  be  feared  when  the  greatest  captain  of 
the  time  had  by  his  side  its  greatest  diplomatic  genius! 
Cabinets  trembled;  and  though  it  has  never  been 
proved,  on  the  other  hand  there  has  scarcely  been  rea- 
sonable doubt,  that  Charles  XII’s  death  was  determined 
beforehand  in  the  council  of  the  powers.  His  fall, 
says  a talented  author,  was  not  unworthy  of  his  life,  for 
he  fell  before  a coalition  of  all  Europe,  which  feared 
him,  and  which  could  say  of  him,  in  the  tyrant’s  words: 
Let  him  be  a God,  so  he  does  not  live ! 

After  the  review  was  ended,  the  General,  Prince  of 
Hesse,  rode  forward  to  the  king  and  presented  Colonel 
Siquier,  called  into  the  Swedish  service  with  Colonel 
Maigret,  as  an  officer  skilled  in  the  art  of  fortification, 
and  appointed  adjutant  general.  Military  etiquette 
demanded  that  these  gentlemen,  like  the  king,  should 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


329 


not  wear  overcoats,  although  the  thermometer,  in  case 
they  had  such  a thing  at  that  time,  would,  perhaps, 
have  shown  several  degrees  below  zero.  Siquier  was 
purple  with  cold  and  vexation.  The  prince  had  under- 
stood the  matter  better  ; he  had  gained  somewhat  in 
size  since  yesterday,  and,  since  he  lived  well,  the  good 
prince,  there  was  nothing  strange  in  it ; but  the  fact 
was,  that,  on  such  occasions,  he  prudently  put  on  an 
extra  suit  of  fine  Dutch  flannel  underwear  beneath  his 
roomy  outer  garments. 

“ What  does  the  colonel  think  of  my  blue  boys  ? ” 
asked  the  king,  who  was  always  embarrassed  in  conver- 
sation with  strangers,  and  seized  the  subject  nearest  at 
hand. 

“ They  must  be  invincible,  since  your  majesty  has 
taught  them  to  resist  the  shafts  of  Boreas  as  well  as 
those  of  Mars,”  replied  Siquier,  in  the  elegant  imagery 
of  the  court  of  those  times. 

The  king  smiled  ; it  was  seldom  that  he  rewarded  a 
Frenchman’s  politeness  with  a smile.  To-day  he  found 
a degree  of  truth  in  it.  “ They  can,  indeed,  stand  a 
little  snowy  weather,”  said  he  gayly  ; “but  I cannot 
answer  how  they  would  gasp  in  the  heat  of  the  sun.  If 
we  should  ever  have  occasion  to  call  upon  his  French 
majesty,  it  would  please  me  to  see  them  stand  the 
test.” 

“ I do  not  suppose,  sire,  that  my  king  can  hope  to 
see  such  honored  guests,”  observed  Siquier,  stung  in 
the  Frenchman’s  most  sensitive  part;  “but  should 
your  majesty’s  troops  honor  France  with  a visit,  I have 
no  doubt  they  would  be  warmly  received. ” 

The  king  laughed,  and,  with  the  prince,  Siquier, 
and  his  staff,  returned  to  headquarters.  During  this 
time  a meeting  had  occurred  which  was  significant  of 
the  condition  and  feeling  of  the  times. 

It  was  known  that  on  the  afternoon  of  that  day 
Baron  Gortz  would  set  out  for  Aland.  Foreign  minis- 
ters, Swedish  civil  officers,  and  fortune-hunters  of  all 
14* 


330 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


nations,  crowded  the  room  of  the  king’s  favorite.  But 
at  the  same  time  a double  watch  was  stationed  around 
his  dwelling,  since  all  his  influence,  and  even  the  prox- 
imity of  the  king,  were  insufficient  to  shield  him  from 
the  indescribable  hatred  which  high  and  low  in  Swe- 
den, almost  without  exception,  felt  for  him. 

Count  Torsten  Bertelskold,  sent  with  a commission 
from  Count  Horn  and  the  council  at  Stockholm,  had 
audience  with  the  mighty  baron  and  minister  of  finance. 
That  they  both  hated  each  other  most  sincerely,  they 
knew  too  well.  They  were  all  the  more  polite  on 
account  of  this  ; one  might  have  supposed  them  to  be 
the  most  intimate  business  friends.  The  haughty 
Swedish  count,  with  the  most  pliant  obsequiousness  set 
forth  his  delicate  commission,  which  was  to  seek  to 
avert  the  most  oppressive  of  the  unheard-of  extortions 
of  the  times,  the  threatened  displacement  of  all  the 
coins  then  current  by  treasury  notes  and  baser  coins  ; 
after  which  all  the  old  coinage  would  be  prohibited  and 
confiscable.  The  Holstein  baron,  no  less  haughty, 
was  this  time  all  honey  and  shrugs.  He  was  for  his 
part  inclined  to  all  possible  indulgence,  but  the  condi- 
tion of  the  kingdom,  the  necessities  of  the  army  and  his 
majesty’s  will  . . . enfin,  what  would  one  do  ? He 
could  not  lay  golden  eggs.  Everything  depended 
upon  peace,  and  he,  for  his  part,  had  done  all  that  he 
was  able  to  do  to  overcome  the  king’s  obstinacy;  but 
his  majesty,  voila  tout ; go  to  the  king  ! 

It  is  not  likely  that  Bertelskold,  or  even  the  council, 
was  quite  in  earnest  in  these  representations  ; it  was 
rather  in  their  interest  to  force  the  situation  to  the 
utmost  limit  ; but  they  must  also  save  their  own  skins. 
All  the  more  urgent  and  more  heated  were  the  negotia- 
tions ; naturally  without  success.  It  was  only  one  of 
the  many  examples  in  history  ; on  one  side  an  inde- 
pendent minister,  who  throws  all  the  blame  on  the 
monarch  and  washes  his  own  hands  in  snow-white  inno- 
cence ; on  the  other  side  the  interest  of  a party  which 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


331 


shouts  with  others  on  the  brink  of  the  country’s  de- 
struction, but  secretly  pushes  its  members  forward  that 
they  may  draw  their  gains  from  the  ruins  they  foresee. 

When  the  two  gentlemen  thought  they  had  talked 
enough  for  appearance  sake,  the  mask  began  to  be  too 
close  for  them.  “ I have  nothing  more  to  add,”  said 
Bertelskold,  rising  to  go.  “Your  Excellence  may 
answer  before  his  own  conscience  and  before  the  king- 
dom for  future  measures,  and  for  what  is  already 
done.” 

“For  my  measures,  Sir  Secretary  of  the  Legation,  I 
am  under  obligation  to  account  to  the  king  alone,  and 
I presume  that  neither  you  nor  anyone  else  has  the 
right  to  control  my  conscience,”  answered  Gortz,  with- 
out rising,  as  etiquette  demanded,  when  so  high-born  a 
person  took  his  departure.  Baron  Gortz  never  neg- 
lected an  opportunity  to  humiliate  the  Swedish  nobility, 
and  it  was  this  provoking  contempt  which  afterward* 
more  than  anything  else,  brought  his  head  to  the  block. 

A sharp  answer  was  already  on  Bertelskold’s  lips, 
when  a window  crashed,  a stone  flew  in  and  fell  close 
by  the  favorite’s  feet.  “ The  Swedish  people  answer 
in  my  stead  ; you  can  also  count  upon  being,  at  some 
time,  rewarded  according  to  your  service,”  said  Ber- 
telskold, with  icy  coolness,  as  he  bowed  and  went  out. 

Gortz  smiled  contemptuously.  “ Such  are  at  all 
times  the  arguments  of  parties,”  said  he,  and  seized  the 
bell.  “ Let  the  Holland  minister  step  in  ! ” 


332 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE  KING’S  RING. 


OUNTESS  Ebba  Cecilia  Liewen,  born  Bertel- 


skold,  had,  as  lady  of  honor  to  the  Princess 


Ulrika  Eleonora,  accompanied  the  court  to  Christine- 
hamn.  They  were  quartered  according  to  their  means 
in  the  better  houses,  and  the  countess  controlled  three 
or  four  rooms  in  the  vicinity  of  the  princess’  residence. 
It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  day  of  the  review  just 
described.  The  king  was  at  work  in  his  private  room 
with  Baron  Gortz  ; the  court  had  no  amusement  for  the 
evening  ; and  the  countess  sat  alone  in  her  room,  after 
having,  according  to  custom,  attended  the  princess 
during  dinner. 

Yet  she  was  not  alone;  she  had  an  agreeable  reason 
for  remaining  at  home.  With  her  sat  the  dear  friend 
of  her  youth,  Eva  Rhenfelt,  whom  we  left  in  captivity 
at  Kajana  Castle,  and  who  appeared  to  Torsten  Bertel- 
skold  so  mysteriously  the  evening  before.  The  two 
friends  had  confided  to  each  other  their  fortunes  since 
they  separated.  That  of  Countess  Ebba  was  soon  told: 
she  had  divided  the  four  hard  and  restless  years  be- 
tween her  duties  to  her  husband  and  numerous  suffer- 
ers for  whom  she,  although  she  forgot  to  say  it,  had 
been  a good  angel  in  those  sorrowful  times.  Eva’s  for- 
tunes, on  the  contrary,  were  changeable  and  adventur- 
ous. She  accompanied,  in  manly  garb,  Gustaf  Bertel- 
skold  to  his  imprisonment  in  Abo  Castle,  where  he,  worn 
out  by  the  difficult  winter-journey,  wavered  long  be- 
tween life  and  death,  until  the  care  of  his  faithful  nurse 
and  the  medical  skill  of  Tobias  succeeded  in  restoring 
him  to  health. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


333 


“Then,”  continued  Eva,  “we  obtained  the  com- 
mandant’s permission,  one  day  in  June,  1716,  to  go  out 
of  the  castle  under  guard,  with  our  friend  from 
Kajana  Castle,  Cajanus  the  priest,  his  family,  and  my 
old  Tobias.  We  wandered  through  the  desolate  streets; 
it  was  the  picture  of  destruction!  Scarcely  a twentieth 
part  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  remained;  most  of 
the  houses  were  without  doors  or  windows;  a part  were 
used  as  stables,  others  were  half  torn  down  for  fire- 
wood. Tall  grass  grew  in  the  streets;  the  horses  of  the 
Cossacks  grazed  on  the  public  square;  nowhere  was 
heard  the  glad  song  of  the  seaman,  the  chat  of  the 
laborer,  or  the  noise  of  children;  only  the  drum 
sounded  at  times  in  those  empty  lanes.  We  came  to  the 
renowned  old  cathedral.  No  sexton  was  needed  to  open 
the  door  for  us,  no  organ  tone  invited  us  to  worship 
beneath  the  high  arch.  The  doors  stood  wide  open; 
the  wind  whistled  through  the  broken  panes.  The  clock 
was  still;  its  hands  had  fallen  off;  time  had  stopped  in 
its  flight.  The  high-altar  was  plundered  of  its  orna- 
ments; the  chancel  was  filled  with  rubbish;  only  the 
monuments  on  the  graves  of  heroes  peered  forth  from 
the  side  aisles.  We  went  farther  in;  a jackdaw  flew  up 
from  the  pulpit  and  lighted  on  the  altar-crown;  we  ap- 
proached the  altar,  the  bird  flew  to  the  empty  organ- 
loft.  On  the  psalm-tablet  two  figures  remained;  they 
showed  one  of  King  David’s  psalms,  Swedish  Psalm- 
book Number  68;  it  was  the  last  the  congregation  had 
sung.  We  recalled  it  with  tearful  eyes  and  sang: 

‘Assist  me,  Lord,  when  o’er  me  roll 
Great  waters  which  o’erwhelm  my  soul, 

When  stormy  winds  o’ertake  me. 

Benumbed,  in  deepest  mire  I sink. 

While  skin  and  flesh  upon  me  shrink; 

Yet  God  will  not  forsake  me. 

With  weeping  am  I weary  grown, 

Though  blind  and  dumb,  God  hears  my  moan; 
Waiting,  on  God  still  calling, 

Suffering,  but  kept  from  falling.’ 


334 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


“Then,”  continued  Eva,  “the  priest  Cajanus  mar- 
ried us  at  the  altar,  and  it  seemed  so  wonderful  that 
our  happiness  should  begin  in  the  midst  of  Finland’s 
extreme  need  and  in  that  desolated  sanctuary  where  so 
many  generations  had  sent  up  their  prayers  to  the  throne 
of  the  Almighty.  That  same  summer  we  were  taken 
over  to  Narva  and  thence  into  the  land  of  the  Musco- 
vites to  a city  called  Novgorod,  where  we  served  in  cap- 
tivity and  were  treated  mercifully.  I had  lard  aside  my 
men’s  clothes  and  went  with  my  husband  as  his  ser- 
vant, and  as  he  was  well  versed  in  the  art  of  breaking 
wild  horses  which  no  one  else  could  control,  he  became 
equerry  to  a noble  lord  with  whom  he  stood  in  great 
favor.  There  God  gave  us  a son  in  our  captivity,  and 
he  is  called  after  King  Charles,  but,  since  we  still  hoped 
for  the  day  of  victory,  the  name  Victor  was  added. 
Late  in  the  autumn  of  1717,  we  made  a journey  to 
Narva  with  our  master.  There  we  met  a yacht  from 
Runo,  where  the  people  are  of  Swedish  descent,  and  it 
was  agreed  with  the  men  from  Runo  that  during  the 
darkness  of  the  night  we  should  go  on  board  their  ves- 
sel and  escape  from  bondage.  But  it  was  so  late  in  the 
year,  that  we  did  not  get  farther  than  Gotland,  where 
we  were  obliged  to  remain  until  ice  formed  between  the 
island  and  the  main  land,  supporting  ourselves  as  best 
we  could,  my  husband  by  shoeing  horses  and  myself 
by  weaving  and  spinning.  When  we  came  to  Stock- 
holm, two  weeks  ago,  it  was  decided  that  Bertelskold 
should  enter  the  service  in  Armfelt’s  corps,  which  is  en- 
camped near  Gefle,  because  those  troops  are  for  the 
most  part  Finns.  But  I came  here  to  you,  Ebba,  to 
procure  for  Bertelskold  an  adjutant’s  place  with  Armfelt, 
his  old  chief.  I have  succeeded,  as  you  know,  though 
with  some  difficulty,  for  when  I saw  this  new  army  which 
is  intended  to  attack  Norway,  while  Finland  is  bleeding 
to  death,  my  heart  was  oppressed,  and  the  words  came 
irresistibly  to  my  lips:  ‘ What  has  your  majesty  done 
with  Finland?’  The  rest  you  know.  I am  happy  in 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME. 


335 


again  seeing  you  and  in  obtaining  the  king’s  assent. 
To-morrow  we  shall  separate  again,  and  who  knows  if 
it  be  not  forever  ? ” 

“ Why  such  sorrowful  thoughts?”  said  a well-known 
voice  at  the  door,  and  Torsten  Bertelskold  entered.  “Is 
my  fair  enemy  still  implacable  ? ” 

The  two  women  exchanged  glances.  “ I did  not 
believe,”  replied  Eva,  coldly,  “that  the  count  would 
have  anything  to  add  after  our  last  interview  in  the 
harbor  of  Stralsund.” 

The  morsel  must  have  been  hard  of  digestion,  for 
Count  Torsten  sharpened  his  tone  as  he  said: 

“Ah,  you  are  right,  I had  almost  forgotten  that  we 
had  seen  each  other  so  lately.  I hope  the  time  has 
passed  agreeably,  away  there  in  the  Lapland  huts  ? 
With  a confidence  free  from  prejudice,  like  yours,  fair 
Eva,  one  is  never  at  a loss  for  diversion,  for  acquaint- 
ances— in  a word,  I am  certain  that  the  loss  of  so  small 
a thing  as  my  friendship  has  received  manifold  com- 
pensations . . . .” 

“ Torsten  ! ” said  Ebba,  reprovingly. 

“ It  is  true,”  replied  Eva,  smiling,  “ manifold  com- 
pensations! Permit  me,  my  dear  count,  to  present  to 
you  one  of  those  compensations.” 

So  saying,  she  beckoned  to  a servant  in  the  next 
room,  and  there  entered  a dark-haired  boy,  about  a 
year  and  a half  old,  uncommonly  large  of  his  age  and 
so  far  advanced  that  he  was  taking  his  first  steps  in  this 
world. 

The  question  on  Count  Torsten’s  lips  died  the  mo- 
ment it  was  born. 

But  Countess  Ebba  took  the  boy,  sat  him  upon  the 
knee  of  her  astonished  brother,  and  said: 

“ Do  not  put  him  away  from  you,  Torsten;  let  him 
be  a pledge  of  reconcilation  and  friendship  between  your 
sundered  hearts.  Be  a good  uncle  to  him;  he  is  one 
of  us;  his  lawful  name  is  Charles  Victor,  Count  of  Ber- 
telskold.” 


336 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


All  the  studied  calm  of  the  diplomat  was  insuffi- 
cient to  control  the  muscles  in  the  count’s  face.  An 
unspeakable  bitterness  contended  with  the  irresistible 
influence  of  the  innocence  of  childhood  and  the  natural 
rights  of  consanguinity.  He  kissed  the  boy’s  forehead 
and  gently  put  him  down,  rose  hastily,  and  turning  to 
Eva  said,  in  a tone  intended  to  be  calm  and  deliberate, 
but  which  revealed  all  the  pain  of  his  disappointed 
hopes: 

“ My  sister  is  right — there  is  no  room  for  ill-will 
between  us.  I welcome  you,  my  countess,  you  and 
your  son,  I welcome  you  to  our  family.  Eh  bien , for- 
tune is  fitful,  it  has  granted  my  brother  what  it  denied 
me;  let  us  have  no  further  controversy  concerning  it. 
Apropos  of  fortune,  my  sister,  I came  here  to  call  you 
to  account  for  a certain  ring  on  which  the  fortune  of 
our  family  is  said  to  depend.  I had  missed  it  for  eigh- 
teen years  without  any  suspicion  of  what  had  become 
of  it,  until,  by  chance,  a packet  of  letters  was  delivered 
to  me,  which  were  left  by  my  brother  when  he  went 
away  four  years  ago.  Among  them  I found  one  from 
you,  dated  Stockholm,  January  24th,  1704,  in  which 
you  acknowledged  that  I lost  the  ring  in  a glove,  and 
that  you  gave  it  to  the  Duchess  of  Holstein,  and  that 
she  gave  it  to  the  king  fixed  in  a medallion  with  Queen 
Ulrika  Eleonora’s  portrait.  You  do  not  know,  my  sis- 
ter, what  you  have  done.  You  have  thrown  away 
the  fortune  and  the  future  of  our  family  ! ” 

Countess  Ebba  reddened  deeply,  and  grasped  her 
brother’s  hand.  “I  confess,”  said  she,  “that  in  the 
ignorance  of  childhood  I made  a mistake,  greater,  per- 
haps, than  you  can  forgive.  But,  Torsten,  why  put 
faith  in  a superstitious  amulet  ? Is  there  not  an  eternal 
Providence  that  rules  our  destinies,  and  is  it  not  our- 
selves who,  under  its  care,  ought  to  forge  our  own 
fortunes?” 

“ Lectures  from  the  nursery  ! And  yet  there  are 
wonderful  coincidences  which  cannot  be  explained  by 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


337 


any  law  in  the  catechism.  At  his  death,  my  father  left 
a sealed  envelope  containing  the  history  of  this  ring  ; 
it  is  enough,  as  I tell  you,  that  the  fate  of  our 
family  is  inseparably  connected  with  this  jewel,  and 
that  its  loss  heretofore  has  continuously  brought  with 
it  a chain  of  misfortunes,  as  its  possession  has  brought 
us  power  and  honor.  I am  myself  a proof  of  this 
. . . . but,  enfin , do  you  know  whether  the  king  still 
wears  this  medallion  ? ” 

“ According  to  Gosta’s  account,  the  king  lost  the 
medallion  in  the  autumn  of  1703  in  a hand-to-hand 
engagement  at  Rajowka,  the  same  in  which  Hard  fell.” 

“ Diable  ! Lost,  never  to  be  found  again  ! At 
Rajowka  ? That  was  shortly  after  the  battle  of  Holof- 
zin  ! It  was  also  just  before  the  expedition  to 
Ukraine  ! It  was  the  turning-point  in  Charles  XIFs 
fortune.  Before  that,  nothing  but  victory  ! After- 
wards, nothing  but  defeat.  This  accursed  ring  always 
brings  happiness  or  misery,  whatever  hand  may  bear  it 
or  lose  it.  And  I,  fool,  who  had  it  and  took  no  better 
care  of  it ! When  I had  it,  I advanced  rapidly  ; since 
I lost  it,  I have  fought  against  fate  in  vain.  Everything 
goes  adversely.  . . . And  who  can  tell  me  what  raga- 
muffin with  my  talisman  is  at  this  moment  swinging  up 
to  the  first  dignities  of  the  kingdom  ! ” 

Count  Torsten  went  with  vehement  strides  about 
the  room.  Was  it  the  ring’s  demoniac  power,  or  was 
it  ambition’s  phantom  and  the  exasperation  caused  by 
so  many  miscarried  plans,  that  now  bereft  Horn’s  dis- 
ciple of  his  diplomatic  frigidity  ? His  sister  had  never 
seen  him  thus ; in  sorrow  for  his  emotion,  she  did  not 
venture  a word  to  pacify  him. 

A servant  entered  and  announced  a stranger  who 
earnestly  desired  an  interview  with  Madame  Rhenfelt  ; 
her  later  marriage  was  yet  unknown.  Eva  went  out ; a 
short  time  passed,  in  which  the  brother  and  sister  sat 
there  in  silence  with  their  own  memories  and  their 
diverse  opinions  of  life’s  happiness. 


338 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XIL 


Finally  Eva  returned,  agitated,  weeping,  grasped 
the  countess’s  hand  and  said  : “ Will  you  permit  me 

to  bring  back  an  old  friend  ? ” 

Ebba  inquiringly  nodded  assent. 

An  officer  of  noble  bearing  entered,  pale  and  with 
eyes  filled  with  tears.  His  hair  had  grown  gray,  his 
cheeks  were  sunken,  yet  there  was  something  in  his 
person  which  was  less  like  an  old  man’s  bowed  figure 
than  that  of  a man  in  his  best  days  bent  down  by  mis- 
fortune. Countess  Ebba  had  not  looked  at  him  many 
seconds  before  her  cheeks  suddenly  blanched,  and  she 
sank,  silent  and  fainting,  into  her  friend’s  arms. 

“What  is  this?”  exclaimed  Count  Torsten,  incapa- 
ble of  comprehending  the  cause  of  his  sister’s  sudden 
emotion. 

The  stranger  did  not  hear  him.  His  eyes  were 
fixed  with  an  indescribable  expression  on  the  mild  and 
pale  features  of  the  countess,  as  she  slowly  recovered 
herself. 

“ Sir,  who  are  you,  and  what  gives  you  a right  to 
frighten  by  your  presence  Countess  Liewen  ? ” said 
Torsten  to  the  new-comer. 

“ When  the  dead  arise  the  blood  of  the  living  runs 
cold,”  said  the  stranger,  sorrowfully.  “ Who  am  I ? 
A man  risen  from  the  grave,  and  who  was  not  formerly 
unknown  to  you,  Sir  Count.  My  hair  has  whitened 
during  nearly  nine  years  of  captivity  ; why  should  I 
wish  you  to  recognize  him  who  is  regarded  as  dead, 
Erik  Falkenberg,  formerly  one  of  the  king’s  body- 
guard, and  the  nearest  friend  of  your  brother,  Gustaf 
Bertelskold.” 

“ Falkenberg?  Nephew  of  the  royal  councillor  of 
the  same  name  ? Brother  to — to  the  Countess  Eva 
Bertelskold,  born  Falkenberg  ? ” 

“ The  same.  I did  not  know,  Sir  Count,  that 
you  . . . .” 

Torsten  bit  his  lip. 

“You  mistake,  sir,”  said  he.  “It  is  my  brother 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A HA  ME. 


339 


who  has  been  so  fortunate  as  to  win  your  sister’s 
hand.  Welcome  back  again.  It  rejoices  me  that  the 
report  lied  which  said  you  had  fallen  on  Pultowa’s 
bloody  field.” 

“ It  was  only  half  untrue,”  answered  Falkenberg, 
with  a sorrowful  look  at  Countess  Ebba,  who  had 
regained  consciousness  but  had  not  yet  courage  to  look 
up  to  the  formerly  loved,  long  mourned,  finally  returned 
and  yet  forever  lost  friend  of  her  childhood. 

“ I left  the  better  part  of  my  life  and  all  my  happi- 
ness at  Pultowa.  What  remains,  Sir  Count,  is  worth 
but  little.” 

“And  do  you  count  as  nought  a long  line  of 
achievements  which  yet  remain  for  you?  You  forget 
a sister’s  warmest  affection  ? ” said  Eva,  kindly. 

“ And  a devoted  friend  of  your  childhood  ?”  added 
Countess  Ebba,  in  a lower  voice. 

Falkenberg  was  silent. 

“ Your  salvation  must  really  have  been  miraculous,” 
said  Torsten,  desiring  to  get  away  from  these  un- 
pleasant memories. 

“ Perhaps  not  more  miraculous  than  that  of  many 
others,”  answered  Falkenberg  ; “but  yet  sufficiently  so 
to  make  a story  for  children.  Permit  me  to  spare  the 
ladies  an  account  which  could  only  agitate  them.  In 
short,  I lay  for  twelve  hours  among  the  dead  on  the 
battle  field  ; a plundering  marauder  detected  in  me  a 
spark  of  life,  and  undertook  to  rescue  me  ; it  was  a 
profitable  transaction  for  him  to  sell  me  to  a boiar, 
who  received  of  him  a Swedish  captain  as  a servant 
for  life.  I was  taken  far  into  the  interior  ; they  looked 
upon  me  as  a monster,  they  abhorred  me  as  a heretic, 
but  upon  the  whole  did  not  treat  me  very  badly.  As 
I understood  something  about  horticulture,  I was  able 
to  be  of  some  service.  Finally,  I rose  to  the  position 
of  overseer,  and  earned  some  money.  One  day  there 
came  to  our  village  a wandering  peddler  who  sold 
busts  of  the  saints.  Judge  of  my  surprise  when  I dis- 


340 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


covered  among  the  confused  collection  a little  me- 
dallion . . . 

“ With  Queen  Ulrika  Eleonora’s  portrait  ? ” 

“But  how  did  you  know,  Sir  Count  . . . 

“It  was,  then,  really  that!”  burst  out  Torsten 
vehemently. 

“ It  was  the  same  medallion  that  his  majesty  lost  at 
Rajowka  ; the  whole  corps  knew  it ; it  could  not  be 
mistaken.  I concealed  with  difficulty  my  astonish- 
ment, stuffed  half  my  savings  in  the  peddler’s  purse, 
and  obtained  the  medallion.” 

“ Ha,  where  is  it  ? Give  it  here  ! ” 

“ I consider  myself  fortunate  to  be  able  to  place  it 
in  his  majesty’s  own  hand,”  replied  Falkenberg  calmly. 
“ Remarkably  enough,  my  fortune  changed  as  soon  as  I 
got  possession  of  this  jewel.  Everything  played  into 
my  hands  ; my  master’s  young  wife,  who  saw  me  lan- 
guishing and  growing  gray  from  longing  for  my  native 
land,  spoke  so  warmly  for  my  emancipation  that  my 
master  was  jealous  and  gave  his  consent  and  took  me 
himself  to  Riga  ; from  there  he  got  me  a situation  to 
go  to  Copenhagen,  and — I saw  my  fatherland  again.” 

“ Have  the  goodness  to  show  me  the  medallion,” 
said  Torsten,  with  a strange  expression. 

Falkenberg  took  it  out,  well  protected  by  a leather 
case.  The  ring  was  found  so  fastened  that  it  formed 
the  ring  of  the  medallion  by  which  it  hung  when  worn 
on  the  neck. 

“ This  is  my  ring  ! ” exclaimed  Torsten  Bertelskold, 
and  seized  it  with  a convulsive  vehemence,  as  if  he 
would  not  let  it  go  again  for  all  the  world’s  treasures. 

“ It  is  the  king’s  property,  which  must  this  very  day 
return  to  his  majesty,”  objected  Falkenberg. 

“ Hex  regi  rebellis  ! — ah,  you  see  that  I know  the 
inscription.  Do  you  know,  indeed,  that  if  the  king 
should  once  again  possess  this  ring  and  take  care  not 
to  lose  it  by  an  untruth  or  a broken  oath, — it  can  be 
lost  in  no  other  way, — then  his  fortune  would  turn  ; 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME . 


341 


he  would  again  cast  the  whole  of  Europe  at  his  feet, 
and  the  fate  of  the  north  would  be  changed  for  cen- 
turies ! ” 

All  were  silent.  It  was  as  though  they  stood 
under  the  influence  of  an  unknown,  mysterious  power, 
against  which  religion  and  reason  strove  in  vain.  Eva 
arrested  Falkenberg’s  arm,  which  was  already  raised  to 
seize  the  medallion.  “ The  ring  is  his,”  she  said  ; 
“ the  king  has  no  right  to  it.  But  if  you  love  the 
king,  Count  Torsten,  and  if  you  love  our  country,  give 
him  the  ring  again  ! ” 

“ Not  if  he  broke  his  sword  asunder  before  my  feet 
ftnd  bowed  his  knee  before  me  and  kissed  my  foot. 
Not  if  he  offered  me  Norway’s  crown  and  England’s 
throne  ! The  medallion  is  his  ; he  shali  have  it ; but 
the  ring  is  mine  ! ” 

And  Count  Torsten  disappeared. 

Then  disappeared  that  feeling  of  paralysis  which 
had  possessed  them.  Falkenberg  raged.  The  ladies 
wept.  But  it  was  too  late.  Torsten  Bertelskold  had 
the  ring,  and  he  kept  it. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 

CHRISTMAS  morning’s  tardy  sun,  in  the  year 
1718,  arose  over  Tydal’s  mountains  in  Norway 
on  the  border  of  Jemtland.  The  night  had  been  frosty 
and  clear,  but  from  the  sea  at  the  west  there  now 
appeared  a black  snow-cloud  against  the  dark  edges  of 
which  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  gleamed  like  golden 
embroidery  around  a gloomy  mourning-veil.  The 
tops  of  the  mountains,  high  and  snow-covered,  lifted 


342 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


themselves  to  meet  the  deep  of  the  darkened  heavens  ; 
and  when  the  sunshine  fell  upon  their  crowns  of  ice, 
they  seemed  light  and  spring-like  as  hope,  which,  at  a 
distance,  continually  mocks  the  human  sight. 

At  the  foot  of  the  mountain  all  was  life  and  motion. 
Armfelt’s  troops  were  there — the  last  fragments  of 
Finland’s  last  army,  which,  after  the  unsuccessful  attack 
on  Trondhjem,  marched  back  from  Norway’s  mountain 
dales  to  winter-quarters  on  Swedish  ground.  The 
night  had  been  severe ; they  had  collected  heather 
and  the  slender  dwarf  birches  which  grew  among  the 
cliffs  to  make  a fire  in  the  intense  cold  ; but  the  weak 
flame  blazed  up  too  quickly  and  as  quickly  died  away 
again ; and  many  of  them  had  already  frozen  their 
hands  and  feet.  But  there  was  yet  a spark  of  courage 
left  in  those  stiffened  joints.  The  campaign  was  lost ; 
the  valiant  and  renowed  Langstrom,  Finland’s  most 
efficient  partisan,  had  lately  fallen  in  one  of  those  lonely 
desperate  encounters  where  only  the  mountain  echo 
answers  the  champion’s  cry,  and  no  salvation  is  found 
for  those  who  are  outnumbered.  The  march  was  diffi- 
cult, provisions  scarce  ; but  yet  the  Finnish  troops ' 
went  forward,  for  King  Charles  yet  lived,  and  if  all 
was  lost  then  all  remained  to  be  won,  so  long  as  he 
was  on  the  earth.  Vague,  half  - understood  rumors 
of  his  prospective  great  plans  flew  around  among  the 
troops,  and  with  these  stories  of  the  future  and  similar 
stories  of  the  past,  they  enlivened  each  other’s  sinking 
courage  in  the  bivouac.  It  was  known  that  Gortz  was 
working  with  success  for  peace  with  their  most  danger- 
ous adversary,  Czar  Peter,  with  whom  he  had  had  per- 
sonal interviews  in  Haag  and  Petersburg.  It  was 
known  that  the  czar  was  displeased  with  his  German 
allies  who,  with  jealousy  and  fear,  watched  his  endeavor 
to  gain  a foothold  in  Germany.  It  was  known  that  the 
czar’s  personal  character  was  of  that  standard  that 
made  a union  with  Charles  XII  possible  ; — bold,  ambi- 
tious, aggressive.  Something  was  whispered  of  an 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A HA  ME. 


343 


impending  marriage  between  King  Charles  and  Czar 
Peter’s  lovely  daughter  Anna.  Thereafter  these 
mighty  champions,  after  having  so  long  struggled  for 
supremacy  in  the  north,  would  be  reconciled  and 
form  an  alliance  which  must  make  the  thrones  of 
Europe  tremble.  It  was  said  that  Sweden  was  to  give 
Esthonia  and  Ingermanland  in  perpetuity  and  Livonia 
for  fifty  years,  and  that  the  czar  in  exchange  would 
return  Finland  and  with  his  fleet  assist  King  Charles  to 
conquer  Norway.  Then  King  Charles,  in  punishment 
of  King  George’s  perfidy,  would  permit  thirty  thousand 
men  to  set  the  pretender  Stuart  on  the  throne  of  Brit- 
ain ; but  he  himself  would,  in  connection  with  Czar 
Peter,  invade  Germany,  recapture  the  lost  possessions, 
and  reconstruct  Europe. 

These  were  giant  plans  at  the  going  down  of  the 
sun  ; they  all  revolved  around  the  same  central  point, 
the  same  heroic  human  arm.  It  is  known  that  there 
were  found  two  or  three  men  who  considered  them- 
selves equal  to  these  plans ; they  had  sprung  up  in  the 
genius  of  a diplomat,  and,  like  a prairie  fire,  had 
inflamed  the  minds  of  two  monarchs  longing  for 
exploits.  It  is  also  known  that  these  plans  in  all  their 
stormy  greatness  were  more  reasonably  contrived  than 
those  which  Charles  XII  made  by  himself.  But  what 
is  perhaps  forgotten,  is,  that  there  were  still  thou- 
sands of  others  who  believed  in  their  possibility  ; and 
among  them  were  the  last  Finns.  For  long  years  all 
the  Swedish  kingdom  had  dreamed  of  victory  ; misfor- 
tune and  sacrifice  had  undeceived  those  who  were 
the  nearest  fainting  under  the  burden,  but  the  soldier 
still  undertook  everything  in  his  proud  faith  that  under 
the  king’s  banner  he  could  conquer  the  world.  Finnish 
inertia  does  not  quickly  give  up  its  illusions.  Nothing, 
not  even  reverses,  retreat,  and  the  thousand  dangers, 
were  able  to  disturb  the  indomitable  spirit  of  Armfelt’s 
army,  so  long  as  the  king  lived.  They  fought  in  a 


344 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII . 


shadow,  as  Leonidas  fought  under  the  darts  of  the  Per- 
sians : “ The  shadow  of  a name.” 

But  it  came — the  message  which  palsied  every  arm 
and  erased  all  the  future  from  the  book  of  victories. 
A whisper,  sad  as  the  grave,  went  through  the  ranks  ; 
Charles  XII  was  no  more  ; he  had  fallen  as  he  had 
lived:  above  the  breastwork,  hand  on  his  sword-hilt,  eye 
on  the  enemy,  balls  whistling  about  him.  “ He  fell,” 
says  one  of  his  contemporaries,  “ by  a ball  which  went 
straight  through  his  head,  and  that  ball  felled  Sweden 
His  contemporary  forgot  more  fully  to  explain  how  he 
fell.  If  it  was  “ before  a coalition  of  all  Europe,”  if  it 
was  before  a Swedish  ball  or  a Norwegian  ball,  or  if  it  was 
not  a ball  but  the  sword — these  things  seemed  of  no 
weight  at  that  time.  The  only  important  matter  was 
that  the  man  fell  who,  mountain  high  above  the  pig- 
mies of  the  times,  bore  singly  on  his  shoulders  a whole 
era  that  fell  with  him,  never  to  rise  again.  His 
contemporaries  did  not  believe,  with  the  greatest  of 
Sweden’s  later  historians,  that  Charles  XII’s  death 
was  a “ finished  life  ; ” it  expected  of  his  later  career 
improbable  things  like  those  he  had  done  before,  and 
who  shall  say  that  they  expected  foolishly  ?*  The  only 
certain  thing  is  that  the  world  breathed  easier  after  the 
last  giant’s  fall,  for  military  greatness  burdens  the  earth,' 
and  it  oppressed  Sweden  as  though  a mountain  had 
fallen  upon  its  breast.  Yet,  it  is  equally  sure  that  where 
human  greatness  is  added  to  it,  it  elevates  more  than 
it  depresses,  and  it  enlarges  the  heart  of  man  to  such 
exploits  as  live  in  history.  Under  Charles  XII  every 
little  boy  in  Sweden  and  Finland  felt  that  he  was  grow- 
ing up  to  be  a giant.  Those  who  reckon  this  king’s 
actions  according  to  the  common  system  of  debit  and 
credit  make  the  re-sult:  balance,  loss  so  and  so  much. 
And  it  cannot  be  otherwise,  for  Charles  XII  was,  per- 


* Shortly  before  his  death,  Charles  XII  gave  orders  for  the  renovation 
of  the  summer  castles.  Many  believed  that  he  had  determined  to  devote  his 
later  years  to  peace  and  the  restoration  of  the  kingdom. 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A HA  ME. 


345 


haps,  the  greatest  spendthrift  that  ever  lived,  wasting 
his  kingdom,  his  conquests,  his  army  and  himself,  with 
the  same  contempt  for  the  art  of  accumulating.  But 
the  accountants  have  forgotten  a credit  balance,  which 
elevates  his  time  and  which  elevates  all  coming  genera- 
tions, namely:  the  lustre  of  his  greatness.  He  was  the 
apex  and  the  last  dazzling  example  of  that  Scandi- 
navian spirit  of  heroism  which  for  the  preceding  thou- 
sand years  had  raged  over  Europe.  He,  therefore, 
bore  within  him  more  than  an  epoch,  more  than  a 
people  ; he  bore  within  him  the  soul  of  the  past  thou- 
sand years.  They  were  past,  and,  therefore,  it  fell 
with  him  ; but  the  shadow  of  his  name,  which  filled 
and  darkened  the  north  while  he  lived,  fills  and  illumines 
the  north  since  his  fall. 

Armfelt  obtained  the  sorrowful  news  of  the  king’s 
death  from  an  intercepted  Norwegian  postillion.  It 
could  not  long  be  concealed  from  the  soldiers,  and 
from  that  moment  the  Finnish  army  was  lost.  The 
power  of  enthusiasm,  the  power  of  victory,  which  had 
so  long  sustained  the  champions  amid  superhuman  ex- 
ertions, that  power  was  broken.  Reality  seized  and 
overpowered  them,  as  if  the  rock  which  a giant  had 
overturned  upon  the  precipice,  rolled  back  upon  his 
palsied  arm.  And  the  reality  at  this  moment  was  a 
cold  Christmas  morning  on  Norway’s  pathless  moun- 
tains. 

The  army  decamped  from  Tydal,  and  it  was  forty 
miles  to  the  nearest  village  in  Jemtland.  With  the 
army  were  Norwegian  prisoners,  and  among  them 
mountaineers,  who,  having  to  choose  between  the  rope 
and  a generous  reward,  acted  as  guides.  The  sun  was 
still  shining  on  the  highest  mountain  tops,  Bokham- 
maren,  Ojefjall,  Remmen,  and  Einhagen.  But  its 
light  was  soon  quenched  in  the  black  snow-cloud, 
which  continually  rose  higher  and  came  nearer  with  a 
slight  breeze  from  the  northwest.  In  a few  minutes 
mountain,  men,  horses  and  sleighs  were  all  wrapped  in 


346 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XI L 


a snowstorm  so  thick  that  no  one  could  see  ten  steps 
ahead,  and  so  icy  cold  that  it  penetrated  the  warmest 
clothing.  They  were  few  who  had  a coat  of  sheep- 
skin or  an  untorn  homespun  jacket.  The  guides  went 
astray  and  froze  to  death.  The  army  marched  for- 
ward without  knowing  where,  but  it  went  forward  as 
long  as  it  went  at  all.  And  they  went  as  long  as  they 
could  walk — otherwise  they  would  not  have  been  Finns. 
But  soon  they  could  go  no  further.  The  horses  fell 
dead.  The  guns  fell  from  the  soldiers’  hands.  Some 
were  buried  in  masses  of  snow,  some  sank  down  ex- 
hausted, and  slept,  never  to  waken  again.  Some  fell 
into  deep  clefts  covered  with  a treacherous  roof  of 
snow.  The  remainder  sought  bivouacs.  In  the  shel- 
ter of  rocks,  fires  were  kindled  ; everything  that 
could  burn — gunstocks,  ramrods,  transport  sleds,  gun- 
carriages,  saddles,  harness,  sword  belts — was  burned 
without  sparing.  But  the  snow-storm  continued  to 
rage  with  undiminished  violence  all  of  Christmas  day 
and  the  day  after.  The  fires  could  no  longer  be  kept 
up.  The  whole  army  was  devoted  to  destruction. 

In  this  terrible  Christmas  sport  might  be  seen  the 
tall  figure  of  a champion  appearing  in  the  snowstorm 
accompanied  by  about  three  hundred  men  who  still 
followed  him.  He  was  one  of  the  few  who  did  not  yet 
doubt.  It  was  he  who  in  the  renowned  expedition 
against  Trondhjem  first  lifted  a cannon  on  his  shoul- 
der and  bore  it  across  the  chasm.  It  was  he  who  now 
on  the  return  first  broke  across  his  knee  a heavy  tim- 
bered transport  sleigh  and  made  a fire  of  it.  It  was 
he  who,  unwearied,  took  now  one  and  now  another  out 
of  the  drifts  and  the  clefts  and  recalled  them  to 
life.  His  troop  followed  him  as  a preserving  angel, 
and  through  incredible  dangers  beat  a road  to  Eina 
river,  which  flows  from  the  mountain  to  Handol, 
the  first  village  in  Jemtland. 

When  the  three  hundred  came  to  the  river  they  set 
up  a shout  of  joy,  for  they  had  now  a compass  which 


THE  SHADOW  OF  A NAME. 


34? 


would  not  fail  them,  as  the  sun,  moon  and  stars  had 
failed  in  this  terrible  snow  storm.  They  cut  a hole  in 
the  ice  and  looked  to  see  which  way  the  water  ran; 
thence  was  Jemtland,  thence  was  salvation.  Hope  once 
more  smiled  upon  these  few  remaining  braves.  Filled 
with  gratitude,  they  surrounded  their  leader,  Major  Ber- 
telskold,  and  begged  to  take  turns  in  carrying  him,  for, 
as  he  had  for  the  last  thirty-six  hours  worked  more  than 
twenty  of  them  together,  his  strength  began  to  fail. 
But  he  pressed  their  hands  in  farewell,  and  said  a few 
words  which  outvoiced  the  storm. 

“ Go  on,  boys,”  said  he,  “that  is  the  way  to  life.  I 
turn  back  here,  and  no  one  may  follow  me.  More  than 
three  thousand  of  our  men  still  wander  about  among 
these  mountains;  God  knows  how  many  of  them  can 
still  stir  a foot.  But  it  is  Finland’s  last  army;  I cannot 
forsake  them;  I must  find  as  many  of  them  as  I can,  to 
show  them  the  way  here  to  Eina  river.  Do  not  deny 
me  ; it  is  the  last  order  I shall  give  you,  my  children; 
you  know  I cannot  brook  resistance  in  the  service. 
Should  I not  return,  bear  my  greeting  to  my  wife  and 
my  little  son,  my  Charles  Victor.  Tell  them  that  they, 
next  to  God,  were  my  last  thought.  Tell  them  that  my 
brother  Torsten  shall  watch  over  them,  and  bring  up 
my  son  to  be  a good  man,  who  fears  and  honors  the 
king.  Tell  them  I died  as  I lived,  for  Finland  and  for 
King  Charles.  Since  they  are  no  more,  it  is  not  worth 
while  for  me  to  live  longer.  Farewell,  boys  ; God  be 
with  you.  Should  any  of  you  see  Finland  again,  salute 
her  for  me  ! ” 

With  these  words  the  valiant  champion  wiped  off 
the  frozen  tear  with  his  snowy  sleeve  and  hurried  away 
with  brisk  step,  as  if  he  feared  that  love  for  wife  and 
child  and  life  should  at  the  last  moment  betray  his 
fatherland.  The  soldiers  looked  after  him  sadly;  no 
one  ventured  to  set  his  own  will  against  his  last  order, 
and  he  soon  disappeared  from  their  sight,  hidden  by 
the  mountain  and  the  falling  snow. 


348 


TIMES  OF  CHARLES  XII. 


It  was  also  the  last  time  that  anything  was  heard  of 
this  hero  of  our  story,  the  honest  and  brave  Carolin, 
Gustaf  Adolf  Bertelskold.  If  he  succeeded  in  saving 
any  of  Finland’s  last  troop  of  heroes,  it  has  never  been 
known.  It  is  certain,  however,  that  he  with  thousands 
of  others  disappeared  without  a trace  in  the  mountains’ 
immeasurable  snow-covered  grave,  sealing  with  his  life 
that  love  for  king  and  fatherland  which  constantly  en- 
livened his  steadfast  soul  during  hundreds  of  strifes, 
victories,  and  adversities,  from  the  beginning  of  his 
career  even  to  its  end. 

All,  or  nearly  all,  that  had  life  and  breath  on  the 
mountain  that  Christmas  day,  perished.  The  story  goes 
that  some  who  were  left  set  free  the  Norwegian  cap- 
tives and  sent  them  to  the  commandant  at  Trondhjem 
to  ask  assistance,  and  that  he  sent  three  hundred 
skaters  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  light  sleds  to  seek 
out  and  save  the  lost.  These  honest  Norsemen  who 
marched  forth  to  save  a hostile  army,  could  not  advance 
in  the  mountains  while  the  storm  lasted.  After  it 
was  over,  they  followed  the  track  of  the  Finnish  army; 
and  fearful  was  the  sight  that  met  them  among  the 
rocks.  The  path  of  the  army  was  only  too  well  marked 
by  cannons  which  had  sunk  down  in  the  drifts  and  were 
left,  and  weapons  thrown  away  and  lying  strewn  around. 
Then  they  encountered  officers  and  men  frozen  to  death, 
first  one  by  one,  then  whole  files,  finally  entire  com- 
panies and  battalions.  Some  were  found  dead  by  their 
extinguished  camp-fires,  others  sitting  or  lying  in  sleds 
behind  dead  horses;  many  lay  crushed  in  the  deep 
abysses,  others  again  had  stiffened  and  fallen  in  the 
order  in  which  they  marched.  All  around  was  heard 
the  bark  of  wolves;  the  mountain  eagles  circled  in  flocks 
about  this  great  battle-field  of  death;  and  Tydal  became 
for  many  years  the  best  hunting  ground  in  Norway. 

The  losses  by  this  Christmas  devastation  have  never 
been  accurately  numbered.  They  might  be  judged  by 
this:  Armfelt’s  army  entered  Norway  with  six  thous- 


THE  SHADO  W OF  A NAME, 


349 


and  five  hundred  men  fit  for  war,  and  of  these  about 
five  hundred  returned,  part  of  them  with  frozen  limbs. 
If  we  estimate  the  loss  in  dead  and  captured  during 
the  remainder  of  the  expedition  at  twenty-five  hundred 
men,  the  number  of  the  frozen  would  be  about  three 
thousand  five  hundred.  Some  give  a higher  figure, 
some  a lower;  it  is  certain  that  the  loss  was  for  that 
time  immense. 

Thus  ends  the  last  adventure  in  Charles  XII’s  great 
bloody  tragedy,  and  thus  fell  Finland’s  last  Carolins,  of 
whom  the  poet  sings  : 

“ The  last  of  Finland’s  troops  thus  flew, 

Sought  out  from  regions  dreary; 

Among  the  mountains  there  to  die, 

Beneath  the  northern  snows  to  lie.” 

And  again  he  sings  : 

“ Though  Sweden  wept,  wept  Finland  more, 

As  mother  weeps,  and  widow.” 

You  who  in  the  verdure  of  spring,  charmed  with 
milder  pictures,  have  listened  to  this  sad  but  noble 
story;  you  whose  heart  warms  in  contemplating  the 
luster  of  Swedish  honor  or  the  Finnish  exploits  of  later 
days  immortalized  in  song  and  story;  remember  that 
Finland  of  old  had  heroes  worthy  to  be  known  in  his- 
tory, although  it  never  had  before  and  will  probably 
never  have  again  an  Ensign  Stal  to  sing  them. 


END  OF  THIRD  CYCLE. 


I 


TALES  FROM  FOREIGN  TONGUES 


COMPRISING 

Memories: 

A STORY  OF  GERMAN  LOVE.  By  MAX  MULLER. 

Graz  i ella  : 

A STORY  OF  ITALIAN  LOVE.  By  A.  De  LAMARTINE. 

Marie: 

A STORY  OF  RUSSIAN  LOVE.  By  ALEX.  PUSHKIN. 

Madeleine: 

A STORY  OF  FRENCH  LOYE.  By  JULES  SANDEAU. 


The  four  volumes,  in  neat  box.  Price,  $>4.00 
Sold  separately,  per  volume,  price,  $1.00 

Of  “Memories”  the  London  Academy  says:  “It  is  a prose  poem. 
* * * It  is  seidom  that  a powerful  intellect  produces  any 

work,  however  small,  that  does  not  bear  some  marks  of  its  special  bent, 
and  the  traces  of  research  and  philosophy  in  this  little  story  are  apparent, 
while  irs  beauty  and  pathos  show  us  a fresh  phase  of  a many-sided  mind,  to 
which  we  already  owe  large  debts  of  gratitude.” 

Of  “ Graziella”  the  Chicago  Tribune  says  : “It  glows  with  the  love  of  the 
beautiful  in  all  nature.  * * * It  is  pure  literature,  a 

perfect  story,  couched  in  perfect  words.  The  sentences  have  the  rhythm 
and  flow,  the  sweetness  and  tender  fancy  of  the  original.  It  is  unnitorm 
with  “ Memories,”  and  it  should  stand  side  by  side  with  that  on  the  shelves 
of  every  lover  of  pure,  strong  thoughts,  put  in  pure,  strong  words.  ‘Graziella’ 
is  a book  to  be  loved.” 

Of  “Marie”  the  Cincinnati  Gazette  says:  “This  is  a Russian  love  tale 
written  by  a Russian  poet.  It  is  one  of  the  purest,  sweetest  little  narratives 
that  we  have  read  for  a long  time.  It  is  a little  classic,  and  a Russian 
classic,  too.  That  is  one  of  its  charms,  that  it  is  so  distinctively  Russian. 
We  catch  the  very  breezes  of  the  Steppes,  and  meet,  face  to  face,  the  high 
flouled,  simple-minded  Russian.” 

Of  “Madeleine”  the  New  York  Evening  Telegram  says:  “More  than 
thirty  years  ago  it  received  the  honor  of  a prize  from  the  French  Academy 
and  has  since  almost  become  a French  classic.  It  abounds  both  in  pathos 
and  wit.  Above  all  it  is  a pure  story,  dealing  with  love  of  the  most  exalted 
kind.  It  is,  indeed,  a wonder  that  a tale  so  fresh,  so  sweet,  so  pure  as  this 
has  not  sooner  been  introduced  to  the  English-speaking  public.” 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  by  mail,  post-paid, 
on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers, 

A.  C.  McCLURG  & COMPANY, 

Cor.  Wabash  Av.  and  Madison  St.,  Chicago. 


A Sunny  Picture  of  the  Land  of  Music  and 
Musicians . 

MUSIC-STUDY  IN  GERMANY. 

By  MISS  AMY  FAY. 

One  Handsome  12mo.  Volume,  - Price,  $1.25 

“They  are  charming  letters,  both  in  style  and  matter,  and  the  descrip- 
tions of  Tausig,  Kullak,  Liszt  and  Deppe,  with  each  of  whom  Miss  Fay 
studied,  are  done  with  all  the  delicacy  of  a sketch  by  Meissonnier.” — 
Globe , Boston. 

“ In  delicacy  of  touch,  vivacity,  and  ease  of  expression  and  general  charm 
of  style,  these  letters  are  models  in  their  way.  The  pictures  which  she 
gives  of  the  various  masters  under  which  she  studied,  have  the  value  that 
all  such  representations  possess  when  they  are  drawn  from  life  and  with 
fidelity.” — Graphic,  New  York. 

“ One  of  the  brightest  small  books  we  have  seen  is  Amy  Fay’s  Music* 
Study  in  Germany.  These  letters  are  written  home  by  a young  lady  who 
went  to  Germany  to  perfect  her  piano  playing.  * * * Her 

observation  is  close  and  accurate,  and  the  sketches  of  Tausig,  Liszt  and 
other  musical  celebrities,  are  capitally  done.” — Christian  Advocate , New 
York 0 

“The  intrinsic  value  of  the  work  is  great;  Its  simplicity,  its  minute 
details,  its  freedom  from  every  kind  of  affectation,  constitute  in  them- 
selves most  admirable  qualities.  The  remarkably  intimate  and  open  picture 
we  get  of  Liszt  surpasses  any  picture  of  him  heretofore  afforded.  It  is 
a charming  picture— strong,  simple,  gracious,  noble  and  sincere.” — Times , 
Chicago. 

“It  is  bright  and  entertaining,  being  filled  with  descriptions,  opinions 
and  facts  in  regard  to  the  many  distinguished  musicians  and  artists  of  the 
present  day.  A little  insight  into  the  home  life  of  the  German  people  is 
presented  to  the  reader,  and  the  atmosphere  of  art  seems  to  give  a bright- 
ness and  worth  to  the  picture  which  imparts  pleasure  with  the  interest  it 
creates.” — Letter  to  Dwight's  Journal  of  Music. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  by  mall,  post-paid, 
on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers, 

A.  C.  McCLURG  & COMPANY, 

Cor  Wabash  Av.  and  Madison  St.,  Chicago. 


I 


2.3 

2'  / 


